Whatya do when you get famous,
And everyone’s takin’ up your time?
Interviews, and Paparazzi blues,
I feel like utter grease and grime.

Lay Low, I need to stay at home.
Lay Low, I need some time alone.
Lay Low, privacy is just so hard to find.

It’s quite the nervous evacuation,
Like hermits expecting company.
With a tool, I sheered my sheep’s white wool,
Thereby excused for another parody.

Lay Low, please unhook the phone.
Lay Low, tell ‘em I’m in Rome.
Lay Low, Italy is just so hard to find.

I’ll make the best of the cancellations,
From my world tour in Augusta, Maine.
Lobster trap, the press is full of crap,
But I’m still master of my domain.

Lay Low, I need an ice cream cone.
Lay Low, I need a private moan.
Lay Low, sanity is just so hard to find.
Lay Low, I’ll take my wife to Nome.
Lay Low, Alaska for her comb.
Lay Low, Juneau-what is just so hard to find.