Well, I'll tell you a story
of whiskey and mystics and men,
And about the believers and
how the whole thing began
First there were women and
children obeying the moon,
Then daylight brought wisdom
and fever and sickness too soon
You can try to remind me
instead of the other, you can
You can help to insure
that we all insecure our command
If you don't give a listen,
I won't try to tell your new hand
This is it; can't you see
that we all have our ends in the band

And if all of the teachers and
preachers of wealth were arraigned,
We could see quite a future
for me in the literal sands
And if all the people
could claime to inspect such regrets,
well, we'd have no forgiveness,
forgetfullness, faithful remorse
So I tell you, I tell you,
I tell you we must send away
We must try to find a
new answer instead of a way