I heard he rode a silvery bicycle,
along the empty streets last night.
Hanging around, with hair-dos like mine.
No, I haven’t seen the 2Ykids for some time.
Picked up his kicks from the red-brick stairway,
just like a harpsichordist he moved.
And back upstairs, at half past two,
with a paper folded, outside the loo.
Rain falls, like Elvis tears.
Oh no, no homie tonight.
Out on the high street, dim all the lights and,
cry coloured tears again.
And Homie, (don’t forget to catch me. don’t forget to catch me. (Don’t forget to catch me.)
Goonies, don’t you think that’s it’s time
on this platform with the drizzle in my eyes.
And homie, (don’t forget to catch me.),
don’t forget to catch me. (Don’t forget to catch me.),
Goonies, don’t you think that’s it’s time?
The ticket’s in my hand, the train pulls down the line.
