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-