I've been wearing faces in the strangest places
Just to make a dream come true
The dawn is sweet but it's incomplete
And I'm waiting for you
The breeze is blowing and my hair is growing
Forgotten everything my mother knew
The day is young and the spring is sprung
And I'm waiting for you
Must you bring your horse in here, Miss Jones?
Although your snowshoes do look terrific
Yes, they all come from out of the sky, you know
But I'm waiting for you
I'm waiting for the dove
That never came home
I'm waiting for the painter
When his colors were gone
I'm waiting for soldiers at the war
I'm waiting for a royal decision
I'm waiting for the sun to snore
I'm waiting for a rumble from Jericho
Waiting for the world to begin
I'm a bareback rider
I'm an outsider
And I love to dance the boogaloo
I'm a turnip head
I'm a lately wed
And I'm waiting for you
More tea, Vicar?
Hold that tiger
Yes, the hydrangeas do look good

To buy in this time of year
I'm waiting for the angels
To put on their smiles
I'm waiting for the judges
To come to trial
I'm waiting for the aeroplane
I'm waiting for the graves to open
I'm waiting to be sold in chains
I'm waiting for a signal
From the trapdoor queen
Waiting for the world to begin
I'm a snake charmer
I'm a guava farmer
I'm a goose to me
Don't ever say boo
Let the universe roll
I'm a simple soul
And I'm waiting for you
Oh, it sounds so sweet
When you play to me like that
Oh, it sounds so sweet

That tiger doesn't really want to be held
I'm waiting for the signs
To point a different way
I'm waiting for God
To take a holiday
I'm waiting for God to take a holiday


I'm waiting for night in the mind
I'm waiting for the hills to grow steeper
I'm waiting for the man they call Shine
I'm waiting for Willie the Weaper to wake
Waiting for the world to begin
I'm off the market
With an old straw basket
singing do-dee-oh-dee-oh-do green cloth to wear in the spring in the April
breeze is how it will blow
I'm going to introduce to you now the personalities who composed the Jim Stigert occult quart
Over there on my left, we have Miss Cynthia DeMontfort-Jones upon her silvery-toned mandoline
And just a little further over on the left, we have that famed oriental bass player, Miss
Fanola Bumgarner
First time in captivity, folks
On the pounding battery and coterie, we have that well-known bricklayer's laborer from
Pilton, Mr. Jack McMarker
And perhaps we just have time to devastate your synesthesia with one more searing chorus
from Black Jack Davis
Let's see if he's on the steam organ
That's love
That's love
That's love
That's love