Hardly Know Myself

The sailors and thieves are all laughin' out loud,

From their Paddington pub on the corner,

If you give 'em a wink, they will know what you mean,

They'll be after you little Jack Horner.

The Jack Kerouac boys are a truckin' on down,

To somewhere they've read in a story,

But leave 'em alone, they can't do you no harm,

Let 'em have their Bohemian glory.

I've got to get up on my feet,

Pick myself up from the street,

What's goin' on I can't tell,

But I hardly know myself.

I heard myself sing, but my words weren't too clear,

I wish I just knew what it means now,

I try and I try to get out from inside,

Though I guess I'll decipher it somehow.