Tito and I walked into the kitchen   All the heat came pouring down   The beginning of a ritual of bitching   For seven hours ahead he wouldn’t make a sound   He can’t help moving right along   Tito felt right where he belonged   Among the mass of dirty plates, he worked on, I couldn’t relate      I had different plans as usual   I didn’t want no part in this   Setting up chairs seemed so unfair   Still quitting today I wouldn’t dare   I can’t help moving right along   Though I don’t feel quite where I belong   I just happened to end up here, With Tito around I shouldn’t have a fear      Every morning wake up, bus to New York City   Fill the coffee cups, make the place look pretty   People walk in and out all day long      Later on I’m in a similar position   Tito is psyched and ready for more   If I had balls I’d ask the question   Why work so hard when everyone ignores?   He can’t help moving right along   Tito felt right where he belonged   I guess it’s a personal thing, when neatness counts its time worth spending      Every morning wake up, bus to New York City   Fill the coffee cups, make the place look pretty   On the radio they play the same damn song      I feel I’m on top of the world today   So give me, some tip money, for my, my bills to pay   No stopping, no stopping, I’ve got to keep on moving   This ain’t no time to slack off at all      Counting days 'til July, it was Tito and I   Counting hours 'til July, it was Tito and I