Well I'll tell you a story of whiskey and mystics and men 
And about the believers, and how the whole thing began 
First there were women and children obeying the moon 
Then daylight brought wisdom and fever and sickness too soon 
You can try to remind me instead of the other you can 
You can help to insure that we all insecure [bad word] 
If you don't give a listen I won't try to tell your new hand 
This is it can't you see that we all have our end in the band 

And if all of the teachers and preachers of wealth were arraigned 
We could see quite a future for me in the literal sands 
And if all of the people could claim to inspect such regret 
Well we'd have no forgiveness forgetfulness faithful remorse 
So I tell you I tell you I tell you we must send away 
We must try to find a new answer instead of a way