i can live with god and with suicide
the same thing holds if i close my eyes
it's a [bad word] so pure it can kill you dead
a taste of heaven mixed with [bad word] inside of my head

if a three-four cord can ignite a flame
and a girl like you can forget my name
then i'm that far gone in this crooked grave
with a pistol for my creature and a feather for my day

when i do go down in a rain of toil
with a hand in my satchel and my knees in the soil
i can live with god and with suicide
a lover in her calico, a pony stands at her side

i can live with god and with suicide
the same thing holds if i close my eyes
it's a [bad word] so pure it can kill you dead
a taste of heaven mixed with [bad word] inside of my head