Nobody knows where they're going Nobody knows where they're going Nobody knows where they're going except me I told poor Joan You've been talking, you've been talking to you-know-who And if you can talk to him, you can talk to me too And Joan of Arc, she warned The Lord has a lot of friends, and in the end He'll probably forget he's met you before Oh Charles, tell me about the end You were there the day the music died, and I'll be there the day it dies again He said: A masterpiece belongs to the dead There are microphones under your bed And there's footage that will prove us both wrong Can't you see? Like Joshua kick-kick-kicked the king out of Jericho I'm about to kick your ass up and down this street Here I come, here I come, here I come, here I come Here I come, here I come, here I come, here I come Here I come, here I come, here I come, here I come, here I come Here I come, here I come Here I come, come, here I come, here I come, come, here I come Here I come Oh, oh Oh, oh Oh, oh Here I come, here I come, here I come, here I come Here I come, come, here I come, here I come, come, here I come Here I come, come, here I come, here I come, come, here I come Here I come, come, here I come, here I come, come, here I come Here I come, come, here I come, here I come, come, here I come Here I come, come, here I come, here I come, come, here I come Here I come, come, here I come, here I come, come, here I come Here I come, come, here I come, here I come, come, here I come Here I come, come, here I come, here I come, come, here I come Here I come, come, here I come, here I come, come, here I come Here I come, come, here I come, here I come, come, here I come I knew a man He sat behind a desk that was a million feet wide But he laid down his hammer and he died I knew a man Big and fat, born without arms or legs Born to jump in the air and clap He said: Hang me from a yo-yo or a rope And I'll be hanging by my neck all the same So too shall I reach Long Island City, one of these days Can't you see? He said The Sunday crowds are all my concubines and my enemies But he too shall see Long Island City eventually Maria cried out to me: You can either leave Or you can stop playing that cowbell with your gun So I say: Watch out, Long Island City, here I come Like Charlamagne in Vietnam Until I get home, I am not anyone Long Island City, here I come Like Charlamagne on the midnight bus I have no idea where I'm going Here I come