The gardener hums a song About Jehovah, feeling blue He must have known before That the summer is coming through And the girl who just walked by Is beat as beat can be Had I known what to say to her I'd have fallen down on my knees But, Mickey, don't you be so sad There is nothing you can do But to wait around for people Who will sing their song as loud as you do Your left arm carries your bag Your right arm carries your soul It's a miracle you don't tip over It's a miracle you're there at all But don't you know that I'm just a boy? Don't you know that I need you too? If you will take me to the park I'll make that gardener sing for you But, Mickey, don't you be so sad There is nothing you can do But to read a lot a books That will tell you nothing's ever new Yesterday I got away To my favourite place to read And I told the handsome waiter I met a girl who looked just like me She had fists made of wool And the eyes of William Blake And the cigarette that she gave me Was the only thing that I could take But, Mickey, don't you be so sad There is nothing you can do But to hold on to your breath And pretend that you're not turning blue