Rides his bike on a tarmac causeway Makes him ten feet tall and drives him anywhere Dreams of rockets and home-run heroes Takes the brakes off on the big hills for a dare Oh when its dark here There's a voice that will always call you in But you don't care You still sleep without thinking Best of luck Mr Gorsky all the world's waiting for you There's a clock on the wall And it ticks when you're small Counting for you Good luck Mr Gorsky all the worlds waiting for you There's a plaque on the wall That your wife won at school Cleans it for you Making holes in the tall white fences And a hundred curtains flicker as you pass Think that man must be ninety-seven Built a telescope he focused on the stars Models in boxes never look like the pictures on the front But that's o.k. They still fly on elastic