He slips in through the back door
and he helps himself to the patients' medicine.
And he likes to look important.
Ane he always looks like he's impotent.
And each tale that he tells of the lives that he's saved
is a spade full of dirt as he's digging his grave.
And the deep blackened hallow he's patched with a badge
is the happiness he's never had, and he says:

"It's all right, they know me here.
It's all right, they know me, they know me."

His flames are yesterday's tinsel
and his belly's the sail that propels him
onto the rocks.
And you know that even the noble Don Quixote would
call him a mile away for a windmill.
And each Sunday that passes he's rid of his sins
and he's ready to do them all over again.
And God won't be mad for the money he stole
he put some in the ofering bowl.
And he says:

"It's all right, they know me here.
It's all right, they know me, they know me."
 [bad word] the moment that all souls await,
just as sure as St. Peter will padlock the gate.
But deep in his wallet's a shiny new coin
so, he turns and he winks and says:

"It's all right, they know me here.
It's all right, they know me, they know me.
It's all right, they know me here.
It's all right, they know me, they know me."

Devils, for liars, put brands on the fires
and everyone burns with your glowing, red name on it.
Finally, [bad word] to a place where they
Know you well.