It's the last year of the Blue Men who watchdog Part Two Heaven
Giving way to young ones in nineteen ninety seven
Who follow in their footsteps and wear the breathing masks
And answer all your questions, and ration out your tasks
There will be time enough for love, and room enough to play
For planting Pieces babies, or passing time away
There will be time enough for thought, and room enough for words
That float like pillow feathers and sing just like the birds
Stock up your provisions, devise a shell rock shelter
Where jovial ceilings smile down on every room you enter
Paint windows in your gardens, and windmills on your doors
And lock away the memory that Daddy died in war
There will be time enough for love, and room enough to play
For planting Pieces babies, or passing time away
. Turn in your number for a color bye
Trade in tomorrow's cake . for yesterday's pie - i - i --- i
It's the last year of the full moon that shines on Part Two Heaven
But we still play the moon songs from nineteen fifty seven
The files of pleasure photos, recall us to our prime
And rock-a-bye us, lullabye us back to the good old times
©1973 Kangaroo Music