Ah, don't touch that dial Here's a word about my ex-girlfriend Towards the end conflict off and on And I told her one night, "Honey every time we fight I'll write a verse to this song." Well, things got bad, things got worse Still I struggled on So sit back and get all comfortable 'Cause this little tune's six f**ing hours long And every journey's got destinations Which the traveler can't expect So how's that I'm always winding up Down here at land's edge? I don't know Alright, alright Now if love is blind Why did her stockings always look so cool? Now I know I was paying attention But somehow I got fooled Well, I gave her seven children And a twelve room uptown shack And when it all was over Took a dozen lawyers to get half back But I already got me a new gal to ruin my life And she might just yet So I'm helping her find an apartment Down here at land's edge, yes I am Alright Now let's continue our discussion Now take the traveler and the tourist The essential difference is The traveler don't know where he's goin' And the tourist don't know where he is Small world till they lose your luggage though Take the stripper who lives next door You'd swear this kid was twenty-one Goin' on forty-four But luckily that ain't how she sees it Got a new tattoo that says: "When I die, send the body to heaven. Lost the rest at land's edge."