Number

I don't have your number
You don't have no fame
I don't have your address, here
I can't recall your name.

You don't have no credit
You don't have no sign
You don't have no money
So why are you wasting our time.

It's time to turn my back on you.

You can't speak my language
You can't read my tongue
Your ways are much too savage
You're too old, and you're too young.

You drive a beat up buggy
You work from nine to ten
If all our lines are busy
Just hang-up and try again, my friend.

It's time to turn my back on you.

But we all live here together.
In this crowded place we live.
Lay one hand upon the other.
Open up and let them in.

I don't have time to prick your finger
And besides I might get AIDS
Your movements seem to linger
You walk with different gaits.

Let's talk about the weather
Let's talk about the scores
Let's listen to the standards
I'm getting awfully bored, that's for sure.

It's time to turn my back on you.

But we all live here together.
In this crowded place we live.
Lay one hand upon the other.
Open up and let them in.

(Extended instrumental)

But we all live here together.
In this crowded place we live.
Lay one hand upon the other.
Open up and let them in.

Credits
Lyrics: St. Amand

Guitar: Smith
Bass: Newman
Drums: Schwaninger
Keyboard: St. Amand