The Night Is Young / You'll Go Mad

Written by Pete Atkin

I'll pack the drums in the back of the car
You take the front seat and nurse the guitar
There must be a hundred songs we haven't sung
The evening's over but the night is young

There's still a place we know not far from here
Just search your mind a bit and you will find it very near
The place is open all the year
Just waiting for you to appear

Why should we live by day and die by night
Even owls go out to play and fly by night
Just say the word and the deal can still be swung
The evening's over but the night is young

Step on the gas or else you'll have to stand
You just might still be able to get a table near the band
Where you can reach out with your hand
And feel the bass drum shake the stand

The hours after midnight are too good to miss                 __
We've got to file together to get a date like this              |
The man at the stage door will tell you where we've gone        |
The scene is changing but the show goes on                      |
The scene is changing but the show goes on                      |
                                                                |
You'll go mad                                                   |
When you hear us tell you 'bout the things you could have had   |
It'll nearly kill you                                           |
Birds eat thinking dogs wearing clogs                           |
Desperately rolling along                                       |
With your eyeballs popping like frogs'                          |
                                                                |
You'll go mad, yeah                                             |
Everything that's startling was there                           |
Elephants tap-dancing on thin air                Is this really so psychedelic?
Got it all                                      A lot of phonetic guess-work here
A man rolled up in the wall                   Anyone able to de-Mondegreen this song
Hands on top of the hall                    Please contact <sjb(at)peteatkin(dot)com> !
                                                                |
You'll go mad                                                   |
When you hear us tell you 'bout the things you could have had   |
It'll nearly kill you                                           |
Birds eat thinking dogs wearing clogs                           |
Desperately rolling along                                       |
With your eyeballs popping like frogs'                          |
                                                                |
You'll go mad                                                   |
When you hear us tell you 'bout the things you could have had   |
It'll nearly kill you                                           |
Could have seen her                                             |
But these are your scenes                                       |
Of follies between his knees                                    |
While riding a swarm of bees                                  __|
You'll go mad, mad, mad, mad, mad, mad, mad!

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