On records the sound just fades away
The players they grow smaller and smaller
They return to their homes in the wires
With one last riff and one last holler.

And did you ever make it in tha big city, pal?
Or did you crash down in some rainy alleyway?
I saw six angels wrapping you up in newspaper
Ah, but that might have been a dream.

I used to lie awake when I was five years old,
by the Motorola radio
I was tryin' so hard not to go to sleep
So I'd know where those little people go.

And on records the sound jus' fades away
The players they grow smaller and smaller and smaller
The return to their homes in the wires and the wax and the cassettes and
the chips
With one last little riff and one last little holler

Sayin' somethin like:

Baby I want you, baby I need you, baby I love you, oh baby I do
Baby I want you, baby I need you, baby I love ya, oh baby I do

And their little outfits get smaller and smaller,
An' their little guitars get tiny, tiny, tiny
And their little waa-waa pedals get down 'bout the size of a match head
an' fade away.
An' even their little semi-trucks, well they get tiny, tiny
An' their lttle tour buses get smaller..........
Fade away.

They all gotta go back to LA.
They got a big important business meeting tomorrow morning
In a 25 storey building but it's tiny, tiny, tiny
Gotta go back to LA.

I hear them singin' it as they cross the Rockies

Baby I want you, Baby I love ya', Baby I need you, Baby I do.