I Got Your Number ©2001 Richard March I know your number. I got your card. You’re slow walking, but you like to look hard Daydreamer, loose ends, always starting something, but you never do begin I seen your picture. I know your face. Calling all the papers then you step out of the race. Circle dancer, side stepper, hand full of aces and no money for the betting Train’s leaving, last ride. Ship’s sailing, and the sails are high. Turn on the tele. There’s Alvin Ailey. I start to thinking, "What’cha done for love lately?" Them mirror glasses; they can’t hide your eyes When you’re stumbling around with the mirrors inside Bless your dreams, your Technicolor plans. Foundation’s laid; you better build this sucker, man! Books read, and brand new protocols, Blueprints and war maps on the wall No one ever said you weren’t well planned Just once honey, throw that throttle down. Pull back, you might leave the ground What you don’t know won’t help you now Come Sunday morning, I’m sitting first row. Preacher’s sweating bullets, but they hit me like snow I can’t feel my legs. My back is out of whack. I need a ten-foot Jesus that can shake me like a sack I need a woman who can save me from myself You better watch that thinking boy, it’s bad for your health Train’s leaving, last ride. Ship’s sailing, and the sails are high.