Bookends Album Lyrics by Simon & Garfunkel


Simon & Garfunkel Lyrics

Bookends Lyrics
(Lyrics to the Full Album on one page)

Bookends Theme

[Instrumental]

 

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Save The Life Of My Child

"Good God, don't jump!"
The boy sat on the ledge.
The old man who had fainted was revived.
(He's all right)
And everyone agreed it would be miracle indeed if the boy survived.

Save the life of my chaild,
Cried the desperate mother.

A woman from the supermarket ran to call the cops,
He must be high on something, someone said.
Though it never made the New York Times,
In the Daily News the caption read,

Save the life of my chaild,
Cried the desperate mother.

/Hello, darkness, my old friend,
I've come to talk with you again./

A patrtol car passing by halted to a stop,
Said Officer MacDougal in dismay,
The boss can't do a decent job
Because the kid's got no respect for the law today.

Save the life of my chaild,
Cried the desperate mother.
Oh, what's becomig of the children,
People ask of each other.

When darkness fell, excitement kissed the crowd and it made them wild,
In the atmosphere of freakly holiday.
When the spotlight hit the boy,
And the crowd began to cheer,
He flew away.
Oh, my grey sky, got no hiding place.
Oh, my grey sky, got no hiding place.

 

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America

Let us be lovers,
We'll marry our fortunes together.
I've got some real estate
Here in my bag.

So we bought a pack of cigarettes,
And Mrs. Wagner's pies,
And walked off
To look for America.
"Kathy", I said,
As we boarded a Greyhound in Pittsburgh,
Michigan seems like a dream to me now.

It took me four days
To hitch-hike from Saginaw.
"I've come to look for America."

Laughing on the bus,
Playing games with the faces,
She said the man in the gabardine suit
Was a spy.

I said, "Be careful,
His bow tie is really a camera."
"Toss me a cigarette,
I think there's one in my raincoat."
We smoked the last one
An hour ago.

So I looked at the scenery,
She read her magazine;
And the moon rose over an open field.
"Kathy, I'm lost", I said,
Though I know she was sleeping.
"I'm empty and aching and
I don't know why."

Counting the cars
On the New Jersey Turnpike
The've all come
To look for America,
All come to look for America,
All come to look for America.

 

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Overs

Why don't we stop fooling ourselves?
The game is over, over, over.
No good times, no bad times
No times at all, just the New York Times.
Sitting in the windowsill
Near the flowers.
We might as well be apart
It hardly matters, we sleep separately.
And drop a smile passing in the hall.
But there's no laughts left, 'cause we laughted them all
And we laughted them all in a very short time.
Time is tapping on my forehead
Handing from my mirror
Rattling the teacups.
And I wonder how long can I delay
We've just a habit, like saccharine
And I'm habitually feelin' kind of blue.
But each time I try on the thought of leaving you.
I stop, I stop and think it over.

 

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Old Friends

Old friends,
Sat on their park bench
Like bookends.
A newspaper blown through the grass
Falls on the 'round toes
On the high shoes
Of the old friends.

Old friends.
Winter companions,
The old men
Lost in their overcoats,
Waiting for the sunset.
The sounds of the city,
Sifting through trees,
Settle like dust
On the shoulders
Of the old friends

Can you imagine us
Years from today,
Sharing a park bench quietly?
How terribly strange
To be seventy.
Old friends,
Memory brushes the same years,
Silently sharing the same fear...

 

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Bookends Theme

[Instrumental]

 

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Fakin' It

When she goes, she's gone
If she stays, she stays here
The girl does what she wants to do,
She knows what she wants to do
And I know I'm fakin' it,
I'm not really makin' it.

I'm such a doubious soul
And a walk in the garden
Wears me down.
Tangled in the fallen vines,
Pickin' up the punch lines,
I've just been fakin' it,
Not really makin' it.

Is there any danger?
No, no not really,
Just lean on me.
Takin' time to treat,
Your friendly neighbours honestly.
I've just been fakin' it,
I'm not really makin' it,
This feeling of fakin' it.
I still haven't shaken it.

Prior to this lifetime
I surely was a tailor
/ Good morning, Mr. Leitch.
Have you had a busy day? /
I own the tailor's face and hands
I am the tailor's face and hands and
I know I'm fakin'n it
I'm not really makin' it
This feeling of fakin' it
I still haven't shaken it.

 

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Punky's Dilemma

Wish I was a Kellogf's Corn Flake
Floating in my bowl, takin' movies.
Relaxing a while
Living in style
Talking to a raisin who occasionally plays L.A.
Casually glancing at his toupee.

Wish I was an English Muffin
About to make the most out a toaster.
I'd ease my self down
Coming up brown.
I'd prefer boysenberry more than any ordinary jam.
I'm a sitizens - for - boysenderry jam fan.

Oh, say California.

If I become a first lieutinant
Would you put my phots on your piano?
To mary Jane
Best wishes Martin.
Ol Roger draft-dodger leaving by the basement door
Everybody knows what he's tip - toeing down there for.

 

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Mrs Robinson

And here's to you, Mrs. Robinson
Jesus loves you more than you will know (Wo, wo, wo)
God bless you please, Mrs. Robinson
Heaven holds a place for those who pray
(Hey, hey, hey...hey, hey, hey)

We'd like to know a little bit about you for our files
We'd like to help you learn to help yourself
Look around you, all you see are sympathetic eyes
Stroll around the grounds until you feel at home

And here's to you, Mrs. Robinson
Jesus loves you more than you will know (Wo, wo, wo)
God bless you please, Mrs. Robinson
Heaven holds a place for those who pray
(Hey, hey, hey...hey, hey, hey)

Hide it in a hiding place where no one ever goes
Put it in your pantry with your cupcakes
It's a little secret, just the Robinsons' affair
Most of all, you've got to hide it from the kids

Coo, coo, ca-choo, Mrs Robinson
Jesus loves you more than you will know (Wo, wo, wo)
God bless you please, Mrs. Robinson
Heaven holds a place for those who pray
(Hey, hey, hey...hey, hey, hey)

Sitting on a sofa on a Sunday afternoon
Going to the candidates debate
Laugh about it, shout about it
When you've got to choose
Ev'ry way you look at it, you lose

Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio
A nation turns its lonely eyes to you (Woo, woo, woo)
What's that you say, Mrs. Robinson
Joltin' Joe has left and gone away
(Hey, hey, hey...hey, hey, hey)

Writer: SIMON, PAUL / GUCCINI, FRANCESCO
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

 

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A Hazy Shade Of Winter

Time, time, time, see what's become of me.
While I looked around for my possibilities,
I was so hard to please.
But look around, the leaves are brown,
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter.
Hear the salvation army band
Down by the riverside, it's bound to be a better ride
Than what you've got planned,
Carry your cup in your hand.
And look around you, the leaves are brown now,
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter.
Hang on to your hopes, my friend.
That's an easy thing to say but if your hopes should pass away,
It's simply pretend, that you can build them again.
Look around, the grass is high, the fields are ripe,
It's the springtime of my life.
Oh, seasons change with scenery,
Weaving time in a tapestry,
Won't you stop and remember me?
At any convenient time.
Funny how my memory skips while looking over manuscripts
Of unpublished rhyme,
Drinking my vodka and rhyme.
I look around, the leaves are brown,
There's a patch of snow on the ground,
Look around...

 

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At The Zoo


Someone told me
It's all happening at the zoo.

I do believe it,
I do believe it's true.

It's a light and tumble journey
From the East Side to the park;
Just a fine and fancy ramble
To the zoo.

But you can take the crosstown bus
If it's raining or it's cold,
And the animals will love it
If you do.

Somethin' tells me
It's all happening at the zoo.

The monkeys stand for honesty,
Giraffes are insincere,
And the elephants are kindly but
They're dumb.
Orangutans are skeptical
Of changes in their cages,
And the zookeeper is very fond of rum.

Zebras are reactionaries,
Antelopes are missionaries,
Pigeons plot in secrecy,
And hamsters turn on frequently.
What a gas! You gotta come and see
At the zoo.
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Writer: SIMON, PAUL
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group


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