[Old intuition, on your dock, we're fishin'. Come on now, give us a grade. A for effort, and a B for delivery, C for devotion. When the world starts encroaching on your plans. Where is the savoir, where is the savoir? He's not here right now. Where is the savior, where is the savoir-faire? Embassy row, the fumes, they lay low. On lanes that are wide where the limousines glide. On the wrought-iron gates and the bone China plates. And don't forget your manners where the anthems play.]
Spirits may remain at a standstill but they never regress. They can be found around the clock, at night, in the clouds or at different places in the sky, and it is said to be more frequent than if the Sun were still on its regular course.
[My baby's taking me home. My baby's taking me home. My baby's taking me home. My baby's taking me home. My baby's taking me home. My baby's taking me home. My baby's taking me home. My baby's taking me home. My baby's taking me home. My baby's taking me home.]
[OF THAT SOMETHIN'-SOMETHIN' I WAS TELLIN' YOU ABOUT. CAN I TASTE IT? SURE. A LITTLE BIRD TOLD ME, SAID THE LION. (chuckles) WHAT IS THAT? IT TASTES LIKE TABASCO, WORCESTERSHIRE AND LIQUID SMOKE.]