| Lyrics |
He slips in through the back doorand helps himself to the patients' medicine.
And he likes to look important.
And he always looks like he's important.
And each tale that he tells of the lives that he's savedis a spade full of dirt as he's digging his grave.
And the deep blackened hollow he's patched with a badgeis the happiness he's never had, and he says,"
It's all right, they know me here.
It's all right, they know me, they know me."
His flames are yesterdays tinseland his belly's the sail that propels himonto the rocks.
And you know that even the noble Don Quixote wouldcall him a mile away for a windmill.
And each Sunday that passes he's rid of his sinsand he's ready to do them all over again.
And God won't be mad for the money he stole,he put some in the offering bowl.
And he says......
Soon comes the moment that all souls await,just as sure as St. Peter will padlock the gate.
But deep in his wallet's a shiny new coinso, he turns and he winks and says......
Devils, for liars, put brands on the firesand everyone burns with your glowing, red name on it.
Finally, you've come to a place where theyknow you well.
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