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Things could have been better |
|
they sure could not have gotten much worse |
|
when there were tears out in the alley |
|
and laughter waiting out front in the hearse |
|
and there's remark about contender |
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repulsa ain't too hard to find |
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conclusion based on surrender |
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and the general dismissal on the merit of mankind |
|
the snakes and the saw-tooths |
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they lay loving the buck |
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and spending all their time |
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setting up camp and |
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running amuck |
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{CHORUS} |
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Light is not the neon filler |
|
(not the memory of the sun filled days) |
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not the memory of sun filled days by solar spark |
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(light is the moses) |
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light is the moses |
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splitting the waves in a sea so dark |
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there's a town in the high desert |
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where doctor gene scott |
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says the demons run alongside a chunk of heaven hovering there |
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where the wind in the image of the throne rides shotgun |
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riddles of the wonderment, |
|
wonders of the firmament |
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and me laid up, |
|
laid off and laying low |
|
{CHORUS} |
|
things could have been better |
|
they sure could not have gotten any worse |
|
tears out in the alley way |
|
and laughting waiting out front there in the hearse |
|
{CHORUS} |
