I was following a girl, a Canadian girl On a great American trip She was thumpin' the bass in an improv group On their way to bein' hip After a few nights on the bus While we stopped to get some fuel Her head got small and her rage got big And she challenged me to a duel In a truck stop there on the aisle Where they sell those day glo hats I took up with a girl who had Eyes like an alley cat She took me home, it was her husbands home Before that awful Factory Fire But the Dead man came around that night And proved the alley cat a liar [Chorus:] I gotta grow up I gotta go to work Quit countin' on luck Even if it hurts I gotta grow up I gotta go to work Even if it hurts I gotta grow up I moved out to the coast The western coast And met an Eastern girl She was a big shot in the Picture Biz She wore Black clothes and pearls She loved what happened behind Closed doors Then she locked me out In the cold And said guys like me are Something called a genre That's really getting old