On records the sound just fades away The players they grow smaller and smaller They return to their homes in the wires With one last riff and one last holler.
And did you ever make it in tha big city, pal? Or did you crash down in some rainy alleyway? I saw six angels wrapping you up in newspaper Ah, but that might have been a dream.
I used to lie awake when I was five years old, by the Motorola radio I was tryin' so hard not to go to sleep So I'd know where those little people go.
And on records the sound jus' fades away The players they grow smaller and smaller and smaller The return to their homes in the wires and the wax and the cassettes and the chips With one last little riff and one last little holler
Sayin' somethin like:
Baby I want you, baby I need you, baby I love you, oh baby I do Baby I want you, baby I need you, baby I love ya, oh baby I do
And their little outfits get smaller and smaller, An' their little guitars get tiny, tiny, tiny And their little waa-waa pedals get down 'bout the size of a match head an' fade away. An' even their little semi-trucks, well they get tiny, tiny An' their lttle tour buses get smaller.......... Fade away.
They all gotta go back to LA. They got a big important business meeting tomorrow morning In a 25 storey building but it's tiny, tiny, tiny Gotta go back to LA.
I hear them singin' it as they cross the Rockies
Baby I want you, Baby I love ya', Baby I need you, Baby I do.
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