Everybody's talkin' like they can't sit down
And lookin' like they can't stand up
It must be the latest style
And they've seen a lot of things that you never see
Back on the mile up to the hanging tree

Some people can't keep their fingers clean
Just click' their heals to the deal of the scene
Tryin' to keep coreen ?????
Until the first edition of last night's obituaries

Chorus:
Jump up, hold on tight
Can't trust a promise or a guarantee
'Cause the man 'round the curve
Says that he's never heard of you or me

No tombstone would ever suprise me
When I'm locked inside a room
About half the size of a matchbox
Got holes in my socks
They match the ones that I got in my feet
I put my feet in the holes in the street
And somebody paved me over
I was a statue standing on the corner
Tell me how else can a boy get to see those pretty pleats?

Candidate talkin' on the radio
From the cheaters' jamboree
He must be their old latest fool
'Cause it's a two horse race and he changes bets
Like it was just another brand of cigarettes

Some people judge and then just guess the rest
They can't understand, it don't mean that you're blessed
They aught to catch the express, next-stop-
Nowhere, that way you can't forget

-chorus-