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