"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.
Simon and Garfunkel - Bookends Album Lyrics
Simon and Garfunkel - Bookends Lyrics
Writer: PAUL SIMON
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
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 we walked off to look for America
Cathy, I said as we boarded a Greyhound in Pittsburgh
Michigan seems like a dream to me now
It took me four days to hitchhike from Saginaw
I've gone 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 bowtie 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
Cathy, I'm lost, I said though I knew she was sleeping
And I'm empty and aching and I don't know why
Counting the cars on the New Jersey Turnpike
They've all come to look for America
All come to look for America
All come to look for America
I've got some real estate here in my bag
So we bought a pack of cigarettes and Mrs. Wagner's pies
And we walked off to look for America
Cathy, I said as we boarded a Greyhound in Pittsburgh
Michigan seems like a dream to me now
It took me four days to hitchhike from Saginaw
I've gone 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 bowtie 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
Cathy, I'm lost, I said though I knew she was sleeping
And I'm empty and aching and I don't know why
Counting the cars on the New Jersey Turnpike
They've all come to look for America
All come to look for America
All come to look for America
Writer: PAUL SIMON
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
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.
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.
Writer: PAUL SIMON
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Voices of Old People
Art Garfunkel recorded old people in various locations in New York
And Los Angeles over a period of several months
These voices were taken from those tapes
And Los Angeles over a period of several months
These voices were taken from those tapes
Writer: PAUL SIMON
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
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...
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...
Writer: Paul Simon
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
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.
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.
Writer: PAUL SIMON
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Punkys 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.
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.
Writer: PAUL SIMON
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
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)
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: Paul Simon
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
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...
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...
Writer: Paul Simon
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
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.
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.
Writer: PAUL SIMON
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Bookends is the fourth studio album by the American folk rock duo Simon & Garfunkel. Produced by Paul Simon, Art Garfunkel and Roy Halee, the album was released on April 3, 1968, in the United States by Columbia Records. The duo had risen to fame two years prior with the albums Sounds of Silence and Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme and the soundtrack album for the 1967 film The Graduate.
Bookends is a concept album that explores a life journey from childhood to old age. Side one of the album marks successive stages in life, the theme serving as bookends to the life cycle. Side two largely consists of previously-released singles and of unused material for The Graduate soundtrack. Simon's lyrics concern youth, disillusionment, relationships, old age, and mortality. Much of the material was crafted alongside producer John Simon (no relation), who joined the recording when Paul Simon suffered from writer's block. The album was recorded gradually over the period of a year, with production speeding up around the later months of 1967.
Initial sales for Bookends were substantial in the US, and the album produced the number-one single "Mrs. Robinson". The album sold well in the US and in the United Kingdom, where it peaked at number one. Bookends was considered a breakthrough for the duo, placing them on the same level as artists such as Aretha Franklin, The Beatles, Bob Dylan, and The Rolling Stones at the forefront of the countercultural movement in the 1960s. The album has continued to receive critical acclaim and is often debated by critics as to whether it or Bridge Over Troubled Water is Simon & Garfunkel's best album.
Genre(s):
Folk rock Bookends is a concept album that explores a life journey from childhood to old age. Side one of the album marks successive stages in life, the theme serving as bookends to the life cycle. Side two largely consists of previously-released singles and of unused material for The Graduate soundtrack. Simon's lyrics concern youth, disillusionment, relationships, old age, and mortality. Much of the material was crafted alongside producer John Simon (no relation), who joined the recording when Paul Simon suffered from writer's block. The album was recorded gradually over the period of a year, with production speeding up around the later months of 1967.
Initial sales for Bookends were substantial in the US, and the album produced the number-one single "Mrs. Robinson". The album sold well in the US and in the United Kingdom, where it peaked at number one. Bookends was considered a breakthrough for the duo, placing them on the same level as artists such as Aretha Franklin, The Beatles, Bob Dylan, and The Rolling Stones at the forefront of the countercultural movement in the 1960s. The album has continued to receive critical acclaim and is often debated by critics as to whether it or Bridge Over Troubled Water is Simon & Garfunkel's best album.
Producer(s): Paul Simon, Art Garfunkel, Roy Halee
Length: 29:51
Released: April 3rd, 1968
Year: 1968