Oh uh
I see fingers, hands, and shades of faces
Reaching up and not quite touching the promised land
I hear pleas, and prayers, and a desperate whisper saying:
“Oh Lord, please give us a helping hand”
Yeah, yeah
Way down in the background
I can see frustrated souls of cities burning
And all across the water vapor
I see weapons barking out the stamp of death
And up in the clouds, I can imagine UFO’s jumping themselves
Laughing, they saying
“Those people so uptight, they sure know how to make a mess”
Back in the saloon, my tears mix and mildew with my drink
I can’t really tell my feet from the sawdust on the floor
But as far as I know
They may even try to wrap me up in cellophane and try and sell me
Brother sell me, and don’t worry about looking at the storm
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
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