Black tie hangin' round your neck, Black coffee in your hand and a pack of cigarettes.
Weary as you go, but you're proud as you stumble.
You're lookin' for what you don't know,
You're lookin' for your right to pass.
And I don't know where you're bound to roam.
You're cluttered head is a nest for those,
Who aim so meekly to destroy,
You oughta' tell em',
You oughta tell them boy;
This too shall pass.
And you speak like a king, but you preach like a pauper.
The son of a son of a genius, with an ill tempered father.
And how your mother tried boy, Didn't she?
Poured whiskey down your throat, Prayed to the lord that you would see.
On the 3rd day, of the 3rd month, on the 3rd from the sun.
You came to be with the setting of the dusk,
With a cry and a wail your breath it did prevail,
And led you down a road
Which now you hail,
As an awful toll.
Well, you better ring that bell.
The signs of warning are close at your heel.
And when the lights in the churches go out boy,
Ya better kneel.
They're ain't a prayer that could get you the hell out of here.
And on the 7th month, on the 7th day,
You bought yourself a guitar and you strummed, and screamed away.
And you cried and you called up to heaven, hell, and back,
Beggin' for some mercy, Beggin' for the soul you lacked.
And you sold your soul at a crossroads to a she,
Who promised you Eden with the inclusion of an Eve.
But paradise wasn't ripe enough to eat,
She bled you dry, And wore your heart on her sleeve.
Displaying her kill.
And she sang,
“La-di-da-da, La-di-da-da, La-di-da-da, La-di-da-da”
With guns and ammunitia, you ambushed that militia.
And gave birth to new worlds risin' from the piper's penny whistle tune.
And you prayed for the day you would see everything change
But it never did, no, it never do
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