Lord help my poor soul I'm down like Edgar Poe Lord help my poor soul I'm bound for Damascus
Rid those parasites, guttersnipe barbarous begrudgers click With a stick, now they're feeling seasick Wrestle from the bow that bends, the bow that breaks The Judas tree
These garments are foreign rags, all gloomy Not my own you see, when the curb came to me There was no straw In the upholstery
Lord help my poor soul I'm down like Edgar Poe Lord help my poor soul I'm bound for Damascus
Meltdown some, white label's the best, no contest Boot polish, Heads are turned up the vest You know our life feels To address a cheap holiday
We go rabble-rousing, carousing, drowsing, barbiturate Moths at bay congregate, a little blue tit Known to gather in Grief's archway
Lord help my poor soul I'm down like Edgar Poe Lord help my poor soul I'm bound for Damascus
Hold on, you don't have to suffer Hold on, you don't feel any pain
Lord help my poor soul I'm down like Edgar Poe Lord help my poor soul I'm bound for Damascus
