"Good God! Don't jump!"
A boy sat on the ledge
An old man who had fainted was revived
And everyone agreed 'twould be a miracle indeed
If the boy survived

"Save the life of my child!"
Cried the desperate mother

The woman from the supermarket
Ran to call the cops
"He must be high on something" someone said
Though it never made The New York Times
In The Daily News, the caption read

"Save the life of my child!"
Cried the desperate mother

(Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again)

A patrol car passing by
Halted to a stop
Said officer MacDougal in dismay:
"The force can't do a decent job
'Cause the kids got no respect
For the law today (and blah blah blah)"

"Save the life of my child!"
Cried the desperate mother

"Oh what's becoming of the children?"
People asking each other

When darkness fell, excitement kissed the crowd
And it made them wild
In an atmosphere of freaky holiday
When the spotlight hit the boy
And the crowd began to cheer
He flew away

"Oh, my Grace, I got no hiding place"

"Let us be lovers, we'll marry our fortunes together
I've got some real estate here in my bag"
So we bought a pack of cigarettes and Mrs. Wagner pies
And walked off to look for America

"Kathy," I said as we boarded a Greyhound in Pittsburgh
"Michigan seems like a dream to me now"
It took me four days to hitchhike from Saginaw
I've come to look for America

Laughing on the bus
Playing games with the faces
She said the man in the gabardine suit was a spy
I said "Be careful, his bowtie is really a camera"

"Toss me a cigarette, I think there's one in my raincoat"
"We smoked the last one an hour ago"
So I looked at the scenery, she read her magazine
And the moon rose over an open field

"Kathy, I'm lost," I said, though I knew she was sleeping
"I'm empty and aching and I don't know why"
Counting the cars on the New Jersey Turnpike
They've all come to look for America
All come to look for America
All come to look for America

Why don't we stop fooling ourselves?
The game is over, over, over

No good times, no bad times
There's no times at all
Just The New York Times
Sitting on the windowsill
Near the flowers

We might as well be apart
It hardly matters
We sleep separately
And drop a smile passing in the hall
But there's no laughs left
'Cause we laughed them all
And we laughed them all
In a very short time

Time
Is tapping on my forehead
Hanging from my mirror
Rattling the teacups
And I wonder
How long can I delay?
We're just a habit
Like Saccharin

And I'm habitually feelin' kinda blue

But each time I try on
The thought of leaving you
I stop
I stop and think it over

Man 1: I got little in this world. I give honesty without regret. One hundred dollars for that picture. I remember taking a picture with...

Woman 1: Ooh! Let me show you. Let me show you our picture. This was me and my husband when we were first married.

Woman 2: I always slept on one side, left room for my husband.

Woman 1: And that's me when we were sixteen.

Woman 2: But this, this, this, this is not the case. I still do it. I still lay on the half of the bed. (pause) We used to sneak in...

Man 2: Still haven't seen the doctor I was seein'; there's been blood for the last, eh, forty-eight hours, and I can't get up the mucus for the last, eh, two, three months... oh yes, and I maintain, I maintain strongly, to this minute, I don't think it's an ordinary cold.

Woman 3: God forgive me, but an old person without money is pathetic.

Woman 4: Children, and mothers, that's the way we have it. A mother-- they are [mumbling I can't make out].

Woman 5: 'Cause mothers do too much.

Woman 4: That is mother's life, to live for your child. (pause) Yes, my dear.

Man 3: I couldn't get younger. I have to be an old man. That's all. Well...

Woman 6: Are you happy here, honey? Are you happy living with us?

Man 3: So anytime I walk with Lou and... that's all.

Woman 6: Mr. Singer? Are you happy living with us here?

Woman 7: But we don't do that, dear.

Woman 6: But are you happy?

Woman 7: If you mean, if, if you could say, yes, and I thought, and I was so happy, and everybody, "What is this? What is it?"

Woman 8: It just is, beautiful. Like, just a room. Your own room, in your own home.

Old friends
Old friends
Sat on their park bench
Like bookends
A newspaper blown through the grass
Falls on the round toes
Of the high shoes
Of the old friends

Old friends
Winter companions
The old men
Lost in their overcoats
Waiting for the sunset
The sounds of the city
Sifting through the trees
Settle like dust
On the shoulders
Of the old friends

Can you imagine us years from today
Sharing a park bench quietly?
How terribly strange to be seventy

Old friends
Memory brushes the same years
Silently sharing the same fear...

Time it was, and what a time it was, it was
A time of innocence, a time of confidences
Long ago, it must be, I have a photograph
Preserve your memories; They're all that's left you

When she goes, she's gone
If she stays, she stays here
The girl does what she wants to do
She knows what she wants to do
And I know I'm fakin' it
I'm not really makin' it

I'm such a dubious soul
And a walk in the garden
Wears me down
Tangled in the fallen vines
Pickin' up the punch lines
I've just been fakin' it
Not really makin' it

Is there any danger?
No, no, not really
Just lean on me
Takin' time to treat
Your friendly neighbors honestly
I've just been fakin' it
I'm not really makin' it
This feeling of fakin' it-
I still haven't shaken it

Prior to this lifetime
I surely was a tailor
Look at me
("Good morning, Mr. Leitch,
Have you had a busy day?")
I own the tailor's face and hands
I am the tailor's face and hands
I know I'm fakin' it
I'm not really makin' it
This feeling of fakin' it-
I still haven't shaken it

Wish I was a Kellogg's Cornflake
Floatin' in my bowl takin' movies
Relaxin' a while, livin' in style
Talkin' to a raisin who 'casionally plays L.A.
Casually glancing at his toupee

Wish I was an English muffin
'Bout to make the most out of a toaster
I'd ease myself down
Comin' up brown
I prefer boysenberry
More than any ordinary jam
I'm a "Citizens for Boysenberry Jam" fan

Ah, South California

If I become a first lieutenant
Would you put my photo on your piano?
"To Maryjane-
Best wishes, Martin"
(Old Roger draft-dodger
Leavin' by the basement door)
Everybody knows what he's
Tippy-toeing down there for

And here's to you, Mrs. Robinson
Jesus loves you more than you will know, wo wo wo
God bless you please, Mrs. Robinson
Heaven holds a place for those who pray, hey hey hey
Hey hey hey

We'd like to know a little bit about you for our files
We'd like to help you learn to help yourself
Look around you, all you see are sympathetic eyes
Stroll around the grounds until you feel at home

And here's to you, Mrs. Robinson
Jesus loves you more than you will know, wo wo wo
God bless you please, Mrs. Robinson
Heaven holds a place for those who pray, hey hey hey
Hey hey hey

Hide it in a hiding place where no one ever goes
Put it in your pantry with your cupcakes
It's a little secret, just the Robinsons' affair
Most of all you've got to hide it from the kids

Coo coo ca-choo, Mrs. Robinson
Jesus loves you more than you will know, wo wo wo
God bless you please, Mrs. Robinson
Heaven holds a place for those who pray, hey hey hey
Hey hey hey

Sitting on a sofa on a Sunday fternoon
Going to the candidate's debate
Laugh about it, shout about it
When you've got to choose
Every way you look at it you lose

Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio?
Our nation turns its lonely eyes to you, woo woo woo
What's that you say, Mrs. Robinson?
Joltin' Joe has left and gone away, hey hey hey
Hey hey hey

Time, time, time
See what's become of me
While I looked around
For my possibilities
I was so hard to please
But look around
Leaves are brown
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter

Hear the Salvation Army band
Down by the riverside
It's bound to be a better ride
Than what you've got planned
Carry your cup in your hand
And look around
Leaves are brown
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter

Hang onto your hopes, my friend
That's an easy thing to say
But if your hopes should pass away
Simply pretend
That you can build them again
Look around
The grass is high
The fields are ripe
It's the springtime of my life

Seasons change with the scenery
Weaving time in a tapestry
Won't you stop and remember me
At any convenient time?
Funny how my memory skips
While looking over manuscripts
Of unpublished rhyme
Drinking my vodka and lime
I look around
Leaves are brown
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter

Look around
Leaves are brown
There's a patch of snow on the ground

Someone told me
It's all happening at the zoo
I do believe it
I do believe it's true

It's a light and tumble journey
From the East Side to the park
Just a fine and fancy ramble to the zoo
But you can take a crosstown bus
If it's raining or it's cold
And the animals will love it if you do

Somethin' tells me
It's all happening at the zoo
I do believe it
I do believe it's true

The monkeys stand for honesty
Giraffes are insincere
And the elephants are kindly but they're dumb
Orangutans are skeptical
Of changes in their cages
And the zookeeper is very fond of rum

Zebras are reactionaries
Antelopes are missionaries
Pigeons plot in secrecy
And hamsters turn on frequently
What a gas! You gotta come and see
At the zoo

You don't know that you love me
You don't know, but I know that you do
You may think you're above me, yeah
What you think isn't always true

Don't try to debate me
You should know that I'm womanly wise
Still you're trying to manipulate me
You don't know where your interest lies

No, you don't know where your interest lies

You don't begin to comprehend
You're just a game that I like to play
You may think that my friend's all right
But I won't let friendship get in my way

No, I won't let friendship get in my way

Indications indicate
Running the same riff will turn you around
Obviously, you're going to blow it
But you don't know it

You don't know that you love me
You don't know, but I know that you do
You may think you're above me, yeah
What you think isn't always true

And you don't know where your interest lies
You don't know where your interest lies

Old friends
Old friends
Sat on their park bench
Like bookends
A newspaper blown through the grass
Falls on the round toes
Of the high shoes
Of the old friends

Old friends
Winter companions
The old men
Lost in their overcoats
Waiting for the sunset
The sounds of the city
Sift through the trees
Settle like dust
On the shoulders
Of the old friends