Me and [bad word]  we shovel all the ashes out
Black bare linens blowing 'round
Back and forth and up and down, whoa whoa whoa
Guess I had nowhere else to go

Me and [bad word] kept bailing out that riverboat
Floating by the Quiet Rose
Bobbing in the ebb and flow, whoa whoa whoa
Guess I had nowhere else to go

He's an emancipated punk and he can dance
But he's got a hole in the pocket of his pants
Must be a symptom of outstanding circumstances
Whoa, oh

Me and [bad word]  we flitter with a baby spoon
We were flowing through the room
Waterlogged and way too soon, whoa whoa whoa
Guess I had nowhere else to go

Me and [bad word]  we pick up papa's white boy blues
Handmade towels and Sunday shoes
Never made the local news, whoa whoa whoa
Guess I had nowhere else to go

And I'm a liberated loser that can roam
But where my pocket was I'm peeking through a hole
couple second chances surely would console me
Whoa, whoa