Grooving on a Inner Plane - Robyn Hitchcock

Well a million stars is what you are

And it seems like that to me

Or a million sprats in conical hats

Who are oozing in the sea

The deep sea fish has one big wish

And he gets upon the plate

That girl he chews knows how to ooze

She can always tell what she ate

She’s been grooving on a inner plane

Grooving grooving back again

Grooving on a inner plane

Grooving grooving back again

Plato Pluto Monroe Garbo

All between the sheets

And they make their deals and drive their wheels

Down sugar-coated streets

Hands in the syrup and the feets in the stirrup

And the rest goes in your mouth

The short is warm and the long is storm

And there ain’t nothing in the South

But anyway

I don’t know why I’m so alone

I’ve always been a rolling stone

Grooving on a inner plane

Grooving grooving back again

Grooving on a inner plane

Grooving grooving back again

Grooving on a inner plane

Grooving grooving back again

Grooving on a inner plane

Grooving grooving back again

Ah, sock it to me, Reginald!

I don’t know what you’re going through

I hope I’m going through it, too

Grooving on a inner plane

Grooving grooving back again

Grooving on a inner plane

Grooving grooving back again

Grooving on a inner plane

Grooving grooving back again

Grooving on a inner plane

Grooving grooving back again

Grooving on a inner plane

Grooving grooving back again

Grooving on a inner plane

Grooving grooving back again

Grooving on a inner plane

Grooving grooving back again