It’s a late Friday night, the street lamps are shining up in my-- bedroom
There’s a mighty big fight between the thunder and lightning, I wonder who-- will lose
There’s a party balloon and I ain’t been invited
Hey, look at that moon, there ain’t nothing like it
All grey and gold
Down on Jubilee Road
Can see Mr. Bouvier, in his two-bedroom basement in his purple dungarees
He’s grumpy and he’s grey, always sweeping off the pavement cigarettes and leaves
His kid’s up in China and his wife’s up in heaven
Always I wave, ‘cause he’s got this expression
That he’s so-- alone
Down on Jubilee Road
Oh-- I think tomorrow night I will knock on his door and hear all about his life
Because I think that’s the kind of thing that I might like when I’m old
When I’m old
There’s Max and there’s Maude in the house by the station, call them my-- best friends
But he drinks like a horse, and she don’t appreciate it, all this money he seems to spend
I can hear them tonight; he can’t find no vocation
And the neighbours they sigh, at that new generation
Just getting stoned
Down on Jubilee Road
Oh, I think in the summertime I will call you up make everything alright
And we’ll fill up our cups with that bitter wine, and I’ll show you
I’ll show you
The mice are still here, your wardrobe’s still empty, and the walls are still paper thin
And the neighbours my dear, well I think they still hate me for all these songs I endlessly sing
Because it ain’t no perfect street, I ain’t no perfect lover
And life it is brief, I don’t think we get no other
Come back home
Down on Jubilee Road
Down on Jubilee Road