Weather Report

Hey, can you tell me

What everybody plans to do

Hey, can you tell me

Where's everybody's going to

They're out there on the street

They must be elite

They got shoes I can't afford on their

Quick fast feet

They have modified irises

Behind opaque lens

They're hiding equipment

Behind barbed wire fences

They have somewhere to go

They have somewhere to lurk

They have this high-end electronic stuff

I wouldn't know how to work

Hey, can you tell me

What everybody plans to do

Hey, can you tell me

Where's everybody's going to

I'm sitting here on my couch

My enthusiasm sinking

I don't know where anybody's going

I don't know what they're thinking

There seems to be some secret

That everybody's onto

But I just don't seem to get it man

Not even if I want to

Hey, can you tell me

What everybody plans to do

Hey, can you tell me

Where's everybody's going to

I got an upright piano

That is blocking my door

However, my fingers don't obey me

So I don't play it anymore

I got chains around my ankles

That are made out of spaghetti

My newspaper's shredded

Into so much confetti

I tried to make sense of it

But my eyes start to bleed

Every single page is impossible to read

Hey, can you tell me

What everybody plans to do

Hey, can you tell me

Where's everybody's going to