Your silver child
  suspended in space
  Crying out
  to you
  Beckons you
  to yet another fine place
  Where the trials of life are few
    Don't think you're living long
  Who says you are coming on
  They won't remember you
  The rent is always due
    The cloudy men
  who take their place
  And stand in line
  they do
  Know not of
  the satin face
  That separates them from you
    Just put your blue jeans on
  Grab your guitar and sing a song
  Don't think I'm kidding you
  The rent is always due
    She rides a broom
  with gold-plated straw
  She flutters around
  and she cries
  The Brylcream fools
  just standing on
  Digesting all their lives
    But then you walk along
  And she starts coming on
  Beneath her melting broom
  The rent is always due