No more
Walking up six flights of stairs
Or throwing down the key
Because there is no buzzer
No more
Walking thirteen blocks
With thirty pounds of laundry
In the fuckin' dead of winter
No more faulty wiring
No more painted floors
No more spitting out my ultra bright
On top of dirty dishes
In the one and only sink
Hello, to my walk in closets
Tidy as Park Avenue
Hello, my butcher block table
I could get used, I could get used
I could get used to you
No more
Climbing over sleeping people
Before you get out the door
Of your own building
No more
Noxious fumes from gas heaters
That are illegal
Or will blow up while you are sleeping
No more
Leaky ceilings
No more
Holes in the floor
No more
Taking a shower in the kitchen
While your roommate's eating breakfast
And you are getting water on his corn flakes
Hello, to shiny
New parquet wood floors
As waxed as a wealthy girl's legs
Hello, dear Mister Dishwasher
I could get used, I could get used
I could get used, I could get used to you
I could get used to you
No more, exotic
No more, neurotic
No more anything
But pleasantly robotic
We are moving on up
We are moving on up
To the East Side
To the East Side
To a deluxe apartment
In the sky
What's that?
Oh, come on
Hold on, breathe
What are you doing?
It's him
Ah, hold the phone
Hello, to dear Mister Doorman
Who looks like Captain Kangaroo
Hello dear fellow, and how do you do?
I could get used, I could get used
Even seduced, even seduced
I could get used to you
Oh, yeah

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