Gray, quiet and tired and mean
Picking at a worried seam
I try to make you mad at me over the phone.
Red eyes and fire and signs
I’m taken by a nursery rhyme
I want to make a ray of sunshine and never leave home
No amount of coffee, no amount of crying
No amount of whiskey, no amount of wine
No, nothing else will do
I’ve gotta have you, I’ve gotta have you.
The road gets cold, there’s no spring in the middle this year
I’m the new chicken clucking open hearts and ears
Oh, such a prima donna, sorry for myself
But green, it is also summer
And I won’t be warm till I’m lying in your arms
I see it all through a telescope: guitar, suitcase, and a warm coat
Lying in the back of the blue boat, humming a tune…
Where do bad folks go when they die?
They don’t go to heaven where the angels fly
They go to the lake of fire and fry
Won’t see them again ’till the fourth of July
I knew a lady who came from Duluth
She got bit by a dog with a rabid tooth
She went to her grave just a little too soon
And she flew away howling on the yellow moon
Where do bad folks go when they die?
They don’t go to heaven where the angels fly
They go down to the lake of fire and fry
Won’t see them again ’till the fourth of July
Now the people cry and the people moan
And they look for a dry place to call their home
And try to find some place to rest their bones
While the angels and the devils try to make them their own
Where do bad folks go when they die?
They don’t go to heaven where the angels fly
They go down to the lake of fire and fry
Won’t see them again ’till the fourth of July
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