Tin Pan Valley - Robert Plant

I come from Tin Pan Valley and I’m moving right along

I live on former glory, so long ago and gone

I’m turning down the talk shows, the humour and the couch

I’m moving up to higher ground, I’ve found a new way out

There’s parasols and barbeques and loungers by the pool

The late night conversations filled with 20th century cool

My peers may flirt with cabaret, some fake the rebel yell

Me — I’m moving up to higher ground, I must escape this hell

Let me suspend my thirst for knowledge in your powder, sweat and sighs

A grudge of Christian women, a stain of spotless wives

A perfect destination inside a perfect world

I take the bottle to the baby, you take the hammer to the pearl

Like this, oh, like this, oh, like this, oh, like this

Every day’s like Sunday, down here on memory lane

Salad days and no good ways drive me quite insane

A cocktail clouded troubadour attempts to speak in tongues

He’s said enough, I’m through the door I’m moving right along

Like this

Oh, like this, oh, like this, oh, like this, oh, like this, like this, ooh