I'm a hill and you're the broken wheelnwe may make it down but it won't be prettynrow your little boat ashorenand talk like you know it allntall tales of a girl whose shadow was her sunnnI'm the needle and you're the broken recordnwe make a sound but it won't be sweetnand I'll go play a rock shownand you'll make a pretty pennynand we'll rub our copper eyes until they shinenngonna need them in the morningngonna need all I can getngonna need them in the morningnnI'm the clock and you're the broken handsnwe may make a time but it won't be rightnI'll fly the atlanticnyou'll take the pacificnand we'll trade our separate time zones in the nightnnI'll fly the atlanticnbut you'll be more specificnand we'll trade our separate time zones in the nightnngonna need them in the morningngonna need all I can getngonna need them in the morningnnlet's get some rest