Lyrics

The broken bottle-glass sidewalks, they glisten in the sun On a sunny Sunday morning it seems I'm the forgotten one Oh Lord, what am I doing in this strange and distant town? If I had the money, I'd be flying home The whispers of the people that pass me once or twice Are propelled by the wind but are animated and precise Some are going uptown and some are going down If I had the money, I'd be flying home I hear a silver bird suspendеd overhead It's going far beyond whеre these bottle sidewalks end I am going backwards where there is no sound If I had the money, I'd be flying home