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When the iceberg hit, Oh they must have known, God moves on the water Like Casey Jones. So I walked downtown On my telephone, And took a lazy turn Through the redeye zone. It was a five-band bill, A two-dollar show. I saw the van out in front From Idaho, And the girl passed out In the backseat trash. There were no way they'd make Even a half a tank of gas. They looked sick and stoned And strangely dressed. No one showed From the local press. But I watched them walk Through the bottom land, And I wished that I played In a rock & roll band. Hey, hey, It was the fourteenth day of April. Well they closed it down, With the sails in rags. And I swept up the fags And the local mags. I threw the plastic cups In the plastic bags, And the cooks cleaned the kitchen With the staggers and the jags. Ruination day, And the sky was red. I went back to work, And back to bed. And the iceberg broke, And the Okies fled, And the Great Emancipator Took a bullet in the back of the head... Please fill in the fields below and click SUBMIT to send it to your friend.
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