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They walk the alleys in duct tape shoes

We're just drinking margaritas at the mall

The drums march along at the clip of an I.V. drip Like sparks from a muffler dragged down the strip, uh huh I really hope you'll come around It's sunny and 75 It feels so good to be alive Come on, baby, don't stay inside Everybody's coming out tonight

Won't soul music change now that our souls have turned strange?

"This is lake directory, calling party barge I'm on the phone with pond control, they say you are at large Lend us your coordinates, we'll send a Saint Bernard"

When you're seller and commodity You gotta sell yourself immodestly Turn your pedestal into a carving board If that's what the audience is starving for

Have no doubt about it, hon, the dead will do alright

There is a house in New Orleans Not the one you've heard about, I'm talking about another house They spoke of gold in the cellar that a Spanish gentleman had left I broke in one hundred years ago with a dagger tucked in my vest

What was not but could have been Was my obsession way back when

With no light on the door I wasn't quite sure If a night clerk was working within From behind a red curtain Limped a perilous person He appeared to have some egg on his chin

And as the pace of life keeps quickening Beneath the bitching and the bickering When I try to drown my thoughts in gin I find my worst ideas know how to swim

People ask people to watch their scotch People send people up to the moon When they return, well, there isn't much People be careful not to crest too soon

And a setback can be a setup For a comeback if you don't let up But this kind of hurtin' won’t heal And the end of all wanting Is all I've been wanting The end of all wanting Is all I've been wanting The end of all wanting Is all I've been wanting And that's just the way that I feel

It's not the purple hills It's not the silver lakes

Suffering jukebox Such a sad machine You're all filled up with what other people mean

Levels rising on the island Shows no sign of soon subsiding

When failure's got you in its grasp And you're reaching for your very last It's just beginning

The elephants are so ashamed of their size Hosing them down, I tell 'em, "You got pretty eyes"

I wasn't done being my mother's son Only now am I seeing that being's done

He bought a little land with the money from the settlement And even bought the truck that had hit him that day He touched the part where the metal was bent And if you were there, you wouldn't hear him say