I got a book of photographs from old Sing SingnThey used to say upstate, and that's what they'd meannIt's such a prettier name for such an awful placenAnd every page you're looking at another blank facenAnd you know, you have to find a way to pass timenAnd that's what I've been doing for a while now, babynI've been marking each day with the light on the wallnAnd waiting by the telephone to take that callnnAnd you try to change my mind, about to choose thisn'Cause you know too well the history of excusesnnLooking the clean to that liquor machinenThat can jingle their coffers all gold bus tweednAnd jingle the heavens and driving the busn'Cause there's hatches in the back and nothing but this whole hooknAnd you know, I wish that I could change it with a votenBut I never found myself on the right side of the pollsnYou got a dream, well, I'm out in the opennAnd there's mountains and trees and the smell of the oceannnI try to change my mind, about to choose thisn'Cause you know too well the history of excusesnnI'm down riding on a Hudson River trainnI'm at the window as we're passing by the Rockefeller EstatenI used to buy up all the houses just to clear 'em awayn'Cause they cluttered the view of the far palisadesnNow I came by one house, let alone a valley fullnAnd my only view is of some blank wallnIt gets tired of being confinednAnd waiting around in holes, I got you for tiednnAnd I try to change my mind, about to choose thisn'Cause you know too well the history of excuses