@ALBUM: Bookends @SONG: Bookends Theme (P. Simon, 1968) (Instrumental) @SONG: Save the Life of My Child (P. Simon, 1968) "Good God! Don't jump!" A boy sat on the ledge. An old man who had fainted was revived. And everyone agreed it would be a miracle indeed If the boy survived. "Save the life of my child!" Cried the desperate mother. The woman from the supermarket Ran to call the cops. "He must be high on something," someone said. Though it never made The New York Times. In The Daily News, the caption read, "Save the life of my child!" Cried the desperate mother. A patrol car passing by Halted to a stop. Said officer MacDougal in dismay: "The force can't do a decent job 'Cause the kids got no respect For the law today (and blah blah blah)." "Save the life of my child!" Cried the desperate mother. "What's becoming of the children?" People asking each other. When darkness fell, excitement kissed the crowd And made them wild In an atmosphere of freaky holiday. When the spotlight hit the boy, The crowd began to cheer, He flew away. "Oh, my Grace, I got no hiding place." @SONG: AMERICA "Let us be lovers we'll marry our fortunes together" "I've got some real estate here in my bag" So we bought a pack of cigarettes and Mrs. Wagner pies And we walked off to look for America "Kathy," I said as we boarded a Greyhound in Pittsburgh "Michigan seems like a dream to me now" It took me four days to hitchhike from Saginaw I've gone to look for America Laughing on the bus Playing games with the faces She said the man in the gabardine suit was a spy I said "Be careful his bowtie is really a camera" "Toss me a cigarette, I think there's one in my raincoat" "We smoked the last one an hour ago" So I looked at the scenery, she read her magazine And the moon rose over an open field "Kathy, I'm lost," I said, though I knew she was sleeping I'm empty and aching and I don't know why Counting the cars on the New Jersey Turnpike They've all gone to look for America All gone to look for America All gone to look for America @SONG: Overs (P. Simon, 1967) Why don't we stop fooling ourselves? The game is over, Over, Over. No good times, no bad times, There's no times at all, Just The New York Times, Sitting on the windowsill Near the flowers. We might as well be apart. It hardly matters, We sleep separately. And drop a smile passing in the hall But there's no laughs left 'Cause we laughed them all. And we laughed them all In a very short time. Time Is tapping on my forehead, Hanging from my mirror, Rattling the teacups, And I wonder, How long can I delay? We're just a habit Like saccharin. And I'm habitually feelin' kinda blue. But each time I try on The thought of leaving you, I stop... I stop and think it over. @SONG: Voices of Old People (Created by P. Simon/A. Garfunkel, 1968) [Art Garfunkel recorded old people in various locations in New York and Los Angeles over a period of several months. These voices were taken from those tapes.] @SONG: Old Friends Old friends, old friends, Sat on their parkbench like bookends A newspaper blown through the grass Falls on the round toes of the high shoes of the old friends Old friends, winter companions, the old men Lost in their overcoats, waiting for the sun The sounds of the city sifting through trees Settles like dust on the shoulders of the old friends Can you imagine us years from today, Sharing a parkbench quietly How terribly strange to be seventy Old friends, memory brushes the same years, Silently sharing the same fears @SONG: Bookends Time it was and what a time it was it was, A time of innocence a time of confidences. Long ago it must be, I have a photograph Preserve your memories, they're all that's left you @SONG: Fakin' It (P. Simon, 1967) When she goes, she's gone. If she stays, she stays here. The girl does what she wants to do. She knows what she wants to do. And I know I'm fakin' it, I'm not really makin' it. I'm such a dubious soul, And a walk in the garden Wears me down. Tangled in the fallen vines, Pickin' up the punch lines, I've just been fakin' it, Not really makin' it. Is there any danger? No, no, not really. Just lean on me. Takin' time to treat Your friendly neighbors honestly. I've just been fakin' it, I'm not really makin' it. This feeling of fakin' it-- I still haven't shaken it. Prior to this lifetime I surely was a tailor. ("Good morning, Mr. Leitch. Have you had a busy day?") I own the tailor's face and hands. I am the tailor's face and hands and I know I'm fakin' it, I'm not really makin' it. This feeling of fakin' it-- I still haven't shaken it. @SONG: Punky's Dilemma (P. Simon, 1968) Wish I was a Kellogg's Cornflake Floatin' in my bowl takin' movies, Relaxin' awhile, livin' in style, Talkin' to a raisin who 'casion'ly plays L.A., Casually glancing at his toupee. Wish I was an English muffin 'Bout to make the most out of a toaster. I'd ease myself down, Comin' up brown. I prefer boysenberry More than any ordinary jam. I'm a "Citizens for Boysenberry Jam" fan. Ah, South California. If I become a first lieutenant Would you put my photo on your piano? To Maryjane-- Best wishes, Martin. (Old Roger draft-dodger Leavin' by the basement door), Everybody knows what he's Tippy-toeing down there for. @SONG: MRS. ROBINSON And here's to you, Mrs. Robinson Jesus loves you more than you will know (Wo, wo, wo) God bless you please, Mrs. Robinson Heaven holds a place for those who pray (Hey, hey, hey...hey, hey, hey) We'd like to know a little bit about you for our files We'd like to help you learn to help yourself Look around you, all you see are sympathetic eyes Stroll around the grounds until you feel at home And here's to you, Mrs. Robinson Jesus loves you more than you will know (Wo, wo, wo) God bless you please, Mrs. Robinson Heaven holds a place for those who pray (Hey, hey, hey...hey, hey, hey) Hide it in a hiding place where no one ever goes Put it in your pantry with your cupcakes It's a little secret, just the Robinsons' affair Most of all, you've got to hide it from the kids Coo, coo, ca-choo, Mrs Robinson Jesus loves you more than you will know (Wo, wo, wo) God bless you please, Mrs. Robinson Heaven holds a place for those who pray (Hey, hey, hey...hey, hey, hey) Sitting on a sofa on a Sunday afternoon Going to the candidates debate Laugh about it, shout about it When you've got to choose Ev'ry way you look at it, you lose Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio A nation turns its lonely eyes to you (Woo, woo, woo) What's that you say, Mrs. Robinson Joltin' Joe has left and gone away (Hey, hey, hey...hey, hey, hey) @SONG: Hazy Shade of Winter (P. Simon) Time, time, time, see what's become of me While I looked around For my possibilities I was so hard to please But look around, leaves are brown And the sky is a hazy shade of winter Hear the salvation army band Down by the riverside, it's bound to be a better ride Than what you've got planned Carry your cup in your hand And look around, leaves are brown now And the sky is a hazy shade of winter Hang on to your hopes, my friend That's an easy thing to say, but if your hopes should pass away Simply pretend That you can build them again Look around, the grass is high The fields are ripe, it's the springtime of my life Ahhh, seasons change with the scenery Weaving time in a tapestry Won't you stop and remember me At any convenient time Funny how my memory slips while looking over manuscripts Of unpublished rhyme Drinking my vodka and lime But look around, leaves are brown now And the sky is a hazy shade of winter Look around, leaves are brown There's a patch of snow on the ground... @SONG: At the Zoo (P. Simon 1968) Someone told me It's all happening at the zoo. I do believe it, I do believe it's true. It's a light and tumble journey From the East Side to the park; Just a fine and fancy ramble To the zoo. But you can take the crosstown bus If it's raining or it's cold, And the animals will love it If you do. Somethin' tells me It's all happening at the zoo. The monkeys stand for honesty, Giraffes are insincere, And the elephants are kindly but They're dumb. Orangutans are skeptical Of changes in their cages, And the zookeeper is very fond of rum. Zebras are reactionaries, Antelopes are missionaries, Pigeons plot in secrecy, And hamsters turn on frequently. What a gas! You gotta come and see At the zoo.