Hello Simon my old friend
I've come to sing with you again
And a tour we're arranging
Because our audience is aging
And in ten years we'll be in an old
Folks' home
All alone
With the smell of Hi-lex.
GK: Don't look at me when you sing.
PD: Why not?
GK: Just don't.
PD: Since when do you tell me where to look?
GK: Don't look at me.
PD: Don't be so petty.
GK: It's petty to you, it isn't to me. Okay? Look at the audience. Don't look at me, okay?
PD: Why?
GK: I don't like it. Okay?
PD: I'll look wherever I want.
GK: Look wherever you want, just don't look at me.
Hello Simon my old friend
I'm off on tour with you again
And we're going to thirty cities
Because our crowd is in its sixties
And in ten years we will have no teeth or hair
Sitting there
With the smell of Hi-lex.
GK: How about I sing some of my songs too?
PD: What songs are those?
GK: My songs. You're not the only one who writes songs----
PD: If we sang your songs, we wouldn't need to be playing hockey arenas. We could do it in people's living rooms.
GK: Very funny.
PD: Give the people what they want to hear.
GK: Right. Your songs with me singing that stupid falsetto.
PD: You sing stupid falsetto really well.
GK: I'm tired of it.
PD: It's only until the end of December.
GK: I have a normal voice, you know. Why don't you try singing the girl part sometime?
I'm sitting in the limousine
In Omaha or Aberdeen.
On a tour of hockey rinks and gosh the P.A. system stinks
And every stop is a round of drinks with all the promoters' wives in minks
Rest home bound
Someday I'll be
Rest home bound
Sounds of the gas escaping
Sounds of the walkers scraping
Songs that need carbon dating
Gosh how they bore me.
GK: I'm taller than you. That's what bothers you, isn't it. You're four feet tall, you've been overcompensating all your life.
PD: Four-feet-eight.
GK: Sure. In your special shoes. Barefoot you're four feet tall. That really hurt in high school, didn't it. Girls looked around and glanced down and said, Oh hi, Paul. Can I help you find something?
PD: They didn't either.
GK: They always thought you were somebody's little brother. You waited for your growth years and they never came. You stayed a midget. I'll bet you've been through a lot of therapy over that, haven't you. Still working it out, probably. And you know what the problem is. A little guy like you, he isn't getting the **. Are you. Not getting the **. Women know. Women can tell. That's why they go for the taller guy. They know he's got the **.
PD: Why don't you grow up?
GK: I did.
PD: Sure. Grew up and became a guy with a bad perm who can sing falsetto. .
GK: At least I've got hair to perm.
PD: What's that supposed to mean?
GK: It means I stand here looking down on your bald spot which is the size of Vermont. Why don't you invest in a weave?
PD: I'm not bald! I've got a wide part, is all. Anyway, I'm the star of this act. Don't forget it. Who wrote "Sounds of Silence"? Huh/ Who wrote "Bridge Over Troubled Water"? Not you. People don't even download your songs on the Internet. They don't even bother to steal your stuff. I could do a solo concert and fill those arenas. You're playing coffeehouses.
In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
Neath the halo of a street lamp,
I turned my collar to the cold and damp...
GK: That is such a stupid line, "neath the halo of a street lamp." You're missing a syllable--..ever notice that?
PD: I'm not listening to you.
GK: It should be "Beneath the halo of a neon lamp" ---- you need two syllables--.. you hear what I'm saying?
PD: I don't even hear you anymore.
GK: I try to help you with your music, and you turn me away.
PD: Just shut up.
And here's to you, Joe Dimaggio,
We both love you more than you will know.
Wo wo wo
God bless you, too, Mrs. Robinson.
Won't you come to see our show today
Hey hey hey
We'll do our show in your city soon,
Tickets are on sale as you can see.
Wee wee wee
We'll play hockey rinks and stadiums
You will not believe the crowds we draw
Ha ha ha ha ha ha.