Yeah, yeah, yeah      Take a look around, baby tell me what you see   'Cause what you see is what you found   What you found is what you need   Life is hard, there's a feeling on the Boulevard      Everybody's got to play a final card   A way to go do the deed   Throw the punches like Apollo Creed   'Cause there's a bunch of ways to make it bleed, I know      Well, the words of the prophets are no longer   Written on the subway walls, one of them lost his hair   The other publishes poetry here and there   And that is all but, the things you said to me      I cannot forget although I try   To ignore the space beside me   Where we used to love and you would lie      She gets the feeling   She gets the feeling   Up through the ceiling is the only view   As I was walking out the door, she said, "See   You don't want to go around the world with me"      Anyway, the San Francisco blues   It was a piece of news to me   It was a little blue book   And a night time nook of Zen philosophy      Late at night, a man desires a woman   White, black, tan, but the fires are flamed   By names and traces and the places and the faces   And it's all the same in the morning game when      She gets the feeling   She gets the feeling   Up through the ceiling is the only view   As I was walking out the door, she said, "See   Why don't you wanna come around the world with me"      Everyday I climb the mountain   And everyday I drive a car   Every night I turn the lights off   It goes too far      Woh, woh, woh, woh   Woh, woh, woh, woh   Woh, woh, woh, woh   Woh, woh, woh, woh      She gets the feeling   She gets the feeling   Up through the ceiling is the only view   She says, "Baby, I just can't believe   You don't wanna come around the world with me"      She gets the feeling   She gets the feeling   She gets the feeling   ...