I've been pushed around this dirty old town
I had to move so many times it makes my head spin âround
Just what it is that keeps me here
Is hard to say, the answer's not real clear
I guess it casts a spell that's hard to break
Like December's ice on a mountain lake
I tried to get out but I don't have the heart
To leave all my friends and make a new start.
There's a fly buzzin' around my 8x12 home
Where I can spend the afternoon all alone
I don't need much don't you know
I don't need a TV or a VCR or a touch tone telephone
All you people you try to sell the land
You don't see the problem, you don't seem to understand
All you're doin' is makin' one big mess
âCause bigger isn't better and money isn't happiness...