Songwriter: Joni Mitchell
And you think she knows something by the second refill
He sings merry Christmas for you just like Nat King Cole
You're hoping it's near folly 'cause you're headed that way for sure
No trouble in their faces not one anxious voice
Well some say it's in service they say "Humble makes pure"
But he's just a slave to Barangrill
And you want to get moving and you want to stay still
Three waitresses all wearing black diamond earrings
So, you ask the truck driver on the way to the till
And you just have to laugh 'cause it's all so crazy
You say "Show me the way to Barangrill"
The guy at the gas pumps he's got a lot of soul
Talking about zombies and Singapore slings
About whitewalls and windshields and this job he's got
You think she's enlightened as she totals your bill
None of the crazy you get from too much choice
And he makes up his own tune right on the spot
The thumb and the satchel or the rented Rolls-Royce
It's just a trick on you her mirrors and your will
And you even forget to ask "Hey, where's Barangrill?"
But lost in the moment some longing gets filled
Ah, her mind's on her boyfriend and eggs over easy
Publisher: CRAZY CROW MUSIC