Lyrics Dress Rehearsal Rag - Judy Collins
Got
up
sometime
in
the
afternoon
And
you
didn't
feel
like
much
You
said
to
yourself,
"Where
are
you,
golden
boy?"
"Where
is
your
famous
golden
touch?"
I
thought
you
knew
Where
all
the
elephants
lie
down
I
thought
you
were
the
crown
prince
Of
all
the
wheels
in
Ivory
town
Look
at
your
body
now
Where
there's
nothing
much
to
save
And
a
bitter
voice
in
the
mirror
says
"Hey,
prince,
you
need
a
shave"
Now,
if
you
can
manage
To
get
your
trembling
fingers
to
behave
Why
don't
you
try
unwrapping
A
stainless
steel
razor
blade?
That's
right,
it's
come
to
this
It's
come
to
this
And
wasn't
it
a
long
way
down?
And
wasn't
it
a
strange
way
down?
There's
no
hot
water
And
the
cold
is
running
thin
Well,
what
do
you
expect
From
the
kind
of
places
you've
been
living
in?
Don't
drink
from
that
cup
It's
all
caked
and
cracked
along
the
rim
That's
not
the
electric
light,
my
friend
That
is
your
vision
that
is
dim
Cover
up
your
face
with
soap,
there
Now,
you're
Santa
Claus
And
you've
got
an
A
for
anyone
Who
will
give
you
his
applause
I
thought
you
were
a
racing
man
Ah,
but
you
couldn't
take
the
pace
That's
a
funeral
in
the
mirror
And
it's
stopping
at
your
face
That's
right,
it's
come
to
this
It's
come
to
this
And
wasn't
it
a
long
way
down?
And
wasn't
it
a
strange
way
down?
Once
there
was
a
path
And
a
girl
with
chestnut
hair
And
you
spent
the
summers
Picking
all
the
berries
that
grew
there
There
were
times
she
was
a
woman
There
were
times
she
was
a
child
As
you
held
her
in
the
shadows
Where
the
raspberries
grow
wild
And
you
climbed
the
highest
mountains
And
you
sang
about
the
view
And
everywhere
you
went
Love
went
along
with
you
That's
a
hard
one
to
remember
It
makes
you
clench
your
fist
And
the
veins
stand
out
like
highways
All
along
your
wrist
And
yes,
it's
come
to
this
It's
come
to
this
And
wasn't
it
a
long
way
down?
Wasn't
it
a
strange
way
down?
You
can
still
find
a
job
Go
out
and
talk
to
a
friend
On
the
back
of
every
magazine
There
are
coupons
you
can
send
Why
don't
you
join
the
Rosicrucians?
They
will
give
you
back
your
hope
You
can
find
your
love
in
diagrams
In
a
plain,
brown
envelope
But
you've
used
up
all
your
coupons
Except
the
one
that
seems
To
be
tattooed
on
your
arm
Along
with
several
thousand
dreams
Now
Santa
Claus
comes
forward
That's
a
razor
in
his
mitt
And
he
puts
on
his
dark
glasses
And
he
shows
you
where
to
hit
And
then
the
cameras
pan
The
stand
in
stuntman's
dress
rehearsal
rag
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