Well I'll tell you a story of whiskey
& mystics & men
And about the believers, & how the
whole thing began

First there were women & children obeying
the moon
Then daylight brought wisdom & fever
& sickness too soon

You can try to remind me
instead of the other
you can be

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 & 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