My urban girlfriend lives down the hall from me She's got pictures on her wall of Dylan and Presley She wears them black slacks, tennis shoes, and shirts without the sleeves Though she smokes them long cigarettes, I've seen her do it frequently Lie lie, ya da dye, etc My suburban parents drink coffee and ice tea Depending on the season and the convenience of the locality My father's Sundays are spent with football on TV Though my mother's Mondays seem to happen constantly Lie lie, ya da dye, etc Sometimes I find myself thinking about her security Sitting on a porch somewhere smoking a cigarette in a cloud of humility Oh how I wish I could come to the end of this living trilogy But those urban chains keep right on pulling me, pulling me, pulling me Lie lie, ya da dye, etc