America

Sometimes late
When things are real
And the people share the gift of gab
Between themselves

Some are quick
To take the bait
And the catch the perfect prize
That waits among the shells

But Oz never did give nothing to the Tin Man
That he didn't, didn't already have
And Cause never was the reason for the evening
Or the tropic of Sir Galahad

So please
Believe in me
When I say I'm spinning round, round, round, round
Smoke glass stain'd bright colors
Image going down, down, down, down
Soapsud green like bubbles

Oz never did give nothing to the Tin Man
That he didn't, didn't already have
And Cause never was the reason for the evening
Or the tropic of Sir Galahad

So please
Believe in me
When I say I'm spinning round, round, round, round
Smoke glass stain'd bright colors
Image going down, down, down, down
Soapsud green like bubbles

No, Oz never did give nothing to the Tin Man
That he didn't, didn't already have
And Cause never was the reason for the evening
Or the tropic of Sir Galahad

So please believe in me

Written by BUNNELL, DEWEY
Published by Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., EMI Music Publishing

Lyrics Provided By LyricFind Inc.