Me and Lazarus, we shoveled all the ashes out
Black bed linens blowing around
Back and forth and up and down
Oh whoa, whoa, guess I had nowhere else to go
Me and Lazarus kept bailing out that riverboat
Floating by the choir robes
Bobbing in the ebb and flow
Oh whoa, whoa, guess I had nowhere else to go
He's an emancipated punk and he can dance
But he's got a hole in the pocket of his pants
Must be a symptom of outstanding circumstances
Whoa, whoa
Me and Lazarus, fed her with a baby spoon
Fever flowin' through the room
Far too long and way too soon
Oh whoa, whoa, guess I had nowhere else to go
Me and Lazarus, we pick up papa's white boy blues
Hand-me-downs and Sunday shoes
But never made the local news
Oh whoa, whoa, guess I had nowhere else to go
And I'm a liberated loser that can roll
But where my pocket was I'm peeking through a hole
A couple second chances surely would console me
Whoa, whoa, whoa
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
