Facing New York Butterfly Clock Lyrics
I heard a joke: three men in a bar.
One blind, one rich, one is soaking wet.
A challenge ensues, who will beat the clock?
At what, I don't know, it was a bad joke.
We've yet to reach the end,
You and I, and all of our friends,
Riding the minute hand
Of the butterfly clock.
Lyrics © OBO APRA/AMCOS