He slips in through the back door
and 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 saved
is a spade full of dirt as he's digging his grave
And the deep blackened hollow he's patched with a badge
is 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 tinsel
and his belly's the sail that propels him
onto the rocks
And you know that even the noble Don Quixote would
call him a mile away for a windmill
And each Sunday that passes he's rid of his sins
and 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 coin
so, he turns and he winks and says
Devils, for liars, put brands on the fires
and everyone burns with your glowing, red name on it
Finally, you've come to a place where they
know you well