Jeff Beck

You're everywhere and nowhere baby,
That's where you're at,
Going down a bumpy hillside,
In your hippy hat.
Flying across the country,
And getting fat,
Saying everything is groovy,
When your tyres are flat,
And it's
Hi-ho silver lining,
Anywhere you go now baby,
I see your sun is shining,
But I won't make a fuss,
Though it's obvious.
Flies are in your pea soup baby
They're waving at me,
Anything you want is yours now,
Only nothings for free,