Things are getting kind of shaky up in harlem Crackheads are falling through the banisters And the articles of college prima donnas keep me from noticing the flowers But oh my brother tell me when will we let it all go If you prefer to wear you head outside-in You know you're going to do a lot of crying So you stumble your way into a mcdonald's Order a number five, it's criminal Somewhere children are behaving in a garden Fill up the ocean with a thimble But oh my brother can we tell all the girls to go home? If you prefer to wear your head outside-in You know you're going to do a lot of crying