I’m passing sleeping cities
Fading by degrees
Not believing all I see to be so

I’m flyin’ over backyards
Country homes and ranches
Watching life between the branches below

And it’s hard to say
Who you are these days
But [bad word] on anyway
Don’t you baby?

You [bad word] for another place
To find that saving grace

I’m moving on alone over ground that no one owns
Past statues that atone for my sins
There’s a guard on every door
And a drink on every floor
Overflowing with a thousand amens

And it’s hard to say
Who you are these days
But [bad word] on anyway
Don’t you baby?

You [bad word] for another place
To find that saving grace
Don’t you baby?

You’re rolling up the carpet
Of your father’s two-room mansion
No headroom for expansion no more
And there’s a corner of the floor
They’re telling you is yours
You’re confident but not really sure

And it’s hard to say
Who you are these days
But [bad word] on anyway
Don’t you baby?

You [bad word] for another place
To find that saving grace

Don’t you baby?

You [bad word] for another place
to find that saving grace

Don't you baby?