Everybody s talking like they can t sit down
And looking like they can t stand up
It must be the lastest style
And they ve seen a lot of things that you never see
Back on the mile up to the hanging tree
Some people can t keep their fingers clean
Just clicking their heels to the beat of the scene
Trying to keep careen until the first edition of last night s obituries
Jump up--hold on tight
Can t trust the promise or a guarantee
Cause the man round the curve says that he s never heard
Of you or me
No tombstone would ever surprise me
When I m locked in a room about half the size of a matchbox
Got holes in my socks
They match the ones that I got in my feet
I put my feet in the holes in the street and somebody paved me over
I was a statue standing on the corner
Tell mehow else can a boy get to see those pretty pleats?
Candidate talkin on the radio from the "Cheaters Jamboree"
It must be their lastest fool
Cause it s a two-horse race and he changed his bets
Like it was just another brand of cigarettes
Some people judge and they just guess the rest
They can t understand that don t mean that you re blessed
They ought to catch the Express Next Stop No Where
That way you can forget
Jump up--hold on tight
Can t trust the promise or a guarantee
Cause the man round the curve says that he s never heard
Of you or me
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