Slow Ride

Slow Ride

Music and Lyrics by Nat Hamilton

Copyright 2005.

Baby, it's a slow ride. A slow ride with me.
Although a cop somewhere in Queens might tell you differently.
Tell you differently.
Baby, it is all right. It's all right with me.
And only Doctor Green would breathe to tell you differently.
Tell you differently.

But it's apocalyptic, every night.
I'm sipping red wine, sipping red wine on my front porch.
But, Frankie, lately I don't even see the point.
I'm like a Nihilist shot through the heart.

So I let them spin their wheels, money wheels,
on the slick roads, zipping by, dumb and Helen Keller like.
While I'm just sitting back getting mine. Getting mine.

And Frankie, I've been thinking lately 'bout the time we
Put the sand down the tank trap of the gas guzzling hypocrite,
And maybe I'd feel bad about it, if he weren't so deserved.

Baby, it's a slow ride. A slow ride with me.
Although a cop somewhere in Queens might tell you differently.
Tell you differently.
Baby, it is all right. It's all right with me.
And only Doctor Green would breathe to tell you differently.
Tell you differently.

And frankly, I don't care who's calling.
Let the phone ring, ring,
Ring itself to death,
Let me stay in your arms,
'Cause I don't really care who's calling.

For it's the same thing every day, night
Afternoon pick me up,
Let me down now,
I think I'm drowning.
I don't really care whose calling.

And the clock keeps ticking,
Tick, tick, tock, all the time.
I keep thinking maybe I could rewind her.
If only I could find the time to,
and that screwdriver.

Baby, it's a slow ride. 
A slow ride with me.
Although a cop somewhere in Queens might tell you differently.
Tell you differently.
Baby, it is all right. It's all right with me.
And only Doctor Green would breathe to tell you differently.
Tell you differently.

And only Doctor Green could breathe to tell you differently