Please, come over to 81st Street, I'm in the apartment, above the bar. You know you can't miss it, it's across from the subway, and the tacky store with the Mylar scarves. My skin's as pale as the outdoors moon, my hair's silver like a Tiffany watch. I like lots of people around me, but don't kiss, hello, and please don't touch. It's a Czech-Slovakian custom my mother passed on to me, the way to make friends, Andy, is to invite them up for tea, open house, open house. I've got a lot of cats, here's my favorite, she's a lady called Sam. Paid a paper dollar, her, you can have it, that's what I did when I had St. Peter's dance. It's a Czech-Slovakian custom my mother passed on to me, give people little presents so they'll remember me, open house, open house. Someone bring vegetables, someone please bring heat. My mother showed up yesterday, we need something to eat. I think I got a job today, they want me to draw shoes. The ones I drew were old and used, they told me, draw something new, open house. Fly me to the moon, fly me to a star, but they're no stars in a New York sky, they're all on the ground. You scared yourself with music, I scared myself with paint. I drew 550 different shoes today, it almost made me faint, open house. Open house. Open house. Open house.