Well, the shoeshine boy's got lines around the block   The bloodhound's let the convicts get away   And after you're asleep, all the cheerleaders weep   And the ham-and-eggers win the Irish Sweepstakes every day      The paper boys make headlines and the janitors are winking   As they're filling up their dustpans full of hundred dollar bills   The never-do-wells and stingy-pins all ride around in taxis   In the style that they have grown accustomed to      And the parking lot attendants leave the money in the drawer   And take that Corvette Stingray with a four-on-the-floor   And pull into the filling station and instead of gasoline   Say, 'Hey buddy, can you fill it with a nickel's worth of dreams?'