letra de scatsville - michael franks
ran to penn station and mad my train
immediately fell asleep until i heard
the conductor say: “next stop
where-it’s-atsville.”
sunlight on the hudson an amber glow
like “crepuscule with nellie” dialed
down low
when i reached my stop
the platform sign said: “scatsville.”
i said: “wait!” and i turned around
but the doors where closed and the train
was gone
and i though: “this ain’t
where-i-hang-my-hatsville.”
and the question i asked of each p-sserby
was met with the same singsong reply:
“jack, you are now in scatsville.”
it’s the language of madmen
when you talk through your hat
my eleventh commandment’s:
“thou shalt not scat!”
mr. feather sighed and he seemed
depressed
when i complained of scat on my
blindfold test
so how
how’d i get to scatsville?
live every saxophonist who play bop
it’s a little habit that hard to stop
one day you find yourself in scatsville
with all the cats in scatsville
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