No More

No more
Walking up six flights of stairs
Or throwing down the key
Because there is no buzzer.

No more
Walking thirteen blocks
With thirty pounds of laundry
In the fuckin' dead of Winter.

No more
Faulty wiring
No more
Painted floors.

No more
Spitting out my Ultra Brite
On top of dirty dishes
In the one and only sink.

Hello, to my walk in closets
Tidy as Park Avenue
Hello, my butcher block table
I could get used
I could get used
I could get used to you...

No more
Climbing over sleeping people
Before you get out the door
Of your own building.

No more.

Noxious fumes
From gas heaters that are illegal.

Or will blow up while you are sleeping
Ohhh!
No more
Leaky ceilings
No more
Holes in the floor
No more.

Taking a shower in the kitchen
While your roommate's eating breakfast.

And you're getting water on his corn flakes.

Hello, to shiny new parquet wood floors
As waxed as a wealthy girl's legs
Hello, dear Mister Dishwasher.

I could get used
I could get used...
I could get used
I could get used...
I could get used to you
To you...
No more
Exotic.

No more
Neurotic.

No more
Anything but pleasantly robotic.

We're moving on up
We're moving on up
To the East side
To the East Side
To a deluxe apartment
In the sky!

What's that?

Oh, come on
Hold on, breathe.

Uhhh!

Easy...

What are you doing?

It's him
Ah, hold the phone.

Hello, to dear Mister Doorman
Who looks like Captain Kangaroo
Hello dear fellow, and how do you do?

I could get used...
Even seduced
Even seduced...

I could get used to you!
Ow!
Oh, yeah!