Ticket to Tomorrow

That’s the ticket, baby.
Show it anytime anywhere to get in free.
Show it where there’s a queue to move,
or a few to shove,
a line to cross
or a plane to catch;
what the point is exactly, baby, well, hey, who cares?
We’ve got a ticket to tomorrow
and we’re going there.

That’s the ticket, baby.
It gets you in with the in,
and out with the most,
makes every move you want to make,
fakes out the tails you want to shake,
takes the rubes to the town
and the hicks to the sticks;
spreads out the spread
and gives you the picks;
what the point is exactly, baby, well, hey, who cares?
We’ve got a ticket to tomorrow
and we’re going there.

It’s the legal tender, baby,
for whatever you want
in a place you can hide
or a place you can flaunt.
It’s the undercover agent
that’s behind every scene,
that puts taps on the phones
and the mean in machine,
makes juice out of truce
and suits into brutes,
and the point is exactly, baby, that, hey, who cares?
It’s the ticket to tomorrow
and we’re going there.

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Tags: Christian, materialism, money, poetry, worldliness

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