If I was a baby with nothing to hide   I would be saving prayers all of the time   I would not think of to whom they're addressed   I'd have my mouth on the mystery's breast      Little boy blue in the corn with his horn   Pouring out music the day he was born   Son of a gun and it's holster in love   He can't remember what he is made of      Ooooh      Teenage Maria is caught in the door   Not understanding what her body's for   All of the pieces begin to align   Sick to her stomach she feels like she's flying      Man with a magazine over his face   Wishes that he was in some other place   Life is a waiting room for those who wait   All of it's terrible all of it's great      Ooooh      Grandfather Elliott out on the beach   Watching Ma's paper blow out of his reach   He cannot tell her his soul could be going   So busy always with his bluster and blowing      If I was a baby and I could be blessed   I would sing true love out of your chest   I'd get the paper I'd get myself dressed   I'd keep my mouth on the mystery's breast      Ooooh