Before we wrote the bible there were honest men Dressed like horses and their hands like satin And somewhere in the skies where all the ballads go When singers are tired and leave their homes
But we are continental drifters by design We've got no more money laying down the line So there's no distraction, no useless action, there's no time There's no water damage
Call me home I might answer
The old country's disasterous After us There is nothing left to wear that could flatter us And all our vices fight for themselves
You are the chorus in my adverse life We spread out our possessions all the time All useless lessons and all the given names Are poorly written and thrown away
So call me I'll answer
The old country's disasterous After us There is nothing left to wear that could flatter us
