Sixteen years I spent in Manhattan The landlord was good but he turned bad. A scumbag, actually. Man, I hate him. Money is green but it flows like blood.
I guess I'll have to move across the river. New Jersey beckons with it's sulphur glow. Say, numbered years are a lesser evil. Money is green but it doesn't grow.
I'll put away my furniture, my old sofa But what should I do with my windows view. I feel like I've been married to it or something. Money is green but it makes you blue.
A body on the whole knows where it's going. I guess it's just a soul which makes one pray Even though above it's just a Boeing Money is green and I'm grey.