Solarium malaria lookin' for the stereo
Wanted to save being excommunicated from the area A it's ok
In the city she said he cut a cord of wood,
No bigger than thimble but still plenty good A it's ok

'Cause it's just a bump on a rash of robberies
On account of the world economy that's makin' us sick
Go get the man who said he's on to me,
He thinks we're in the kitchen with our sticks
But he don't know that Paris is burnin' down,
You'd never know it in this town
The governor's walkin' around like he's got tricks for you

Catch as Casius never become the killing machine
Run him over ruff shod 'til he bleeds army green out
So devout to the saint that lost his seat he never seen,
Semi-automatic rosary out devout

'Cause it's just a bump on a rash of robberies
In a world too sad for Solomon we just sit
I'll watch your economy,
I'll tell you when the police have it fixed
Paris is burnin' down,
You'd never know it in this town
The governor's walkin' around like he's got tricks for you

So take a minute to laugh it over,
We'll make sure it's all true,
Just like she said,
Behind the barn last December eve

Baby falls 40 feet caught by a street cleaner coming home from the union hall,
He saw the fall A it's ok
JP Sousa found a radio, a radio
Sousa found a place to go,
A radio in his head that said

It's just a bump on a rash of robberies,
An old sand lot anomaly that's savin' this day
In a world too sad for sodomy
We're just sitting in the kitchen with our stray
But Paris is burnin' down,
Governors are walkin' around,
We'll make sure that they do right by you

So you think you might go to Beatrice,
Even though the letter was never found
Maybe it will come tomorrow noon
She is askin' her fallen saint to
Please return her straitlaced fighter
Who don't know who she is, he don't know who she is
Where are you my sweet Desmond Doss,
Have you softly gone to winter?
Here I've brought you your two two dollar bills back
But I'm not waiting for sweet Eliza
She can have her water colors back,
I found them on last December eve
You look strangely quite so familiar,
The way you talk of suppertime but I don't know who she is,
Don't know who she is
And you, you bring this beloved stranger
At the foot of this pile on Gideon's bed,
She gave me a needlepoint motorbike

So go and take this to sweet Eliza,
It was written and gently given to
The courier pending arrival soon
Could you hold me just one more older
Then I'll go as your fallen fighter
Waiting at the door, can't see you any more?

Here my dear a sweet Nostrovia,
In a letter sent to December,
I will wait for you to just humble me home