Quaker City Night Hawks — The Last Great Audit

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Текст Quaker City Night Hawks — The Last Great Audit

Well here comes Johnny talking bout using his wits

While the rest try to find out just who wrote all of his hits

And you can’t blame a man that securely sits In a hole that you made just for him

Why not take him, shake him til he throws fits

Til he claws out his eyes and finally has to admit

That nothing is sacred until it becomes print In his old man’s morning news

Behind those pages rages words of a man

Trying to explain to his son who just can’t understand

Why he’d rather sit down than make a stand In an old worn out dusty pew

An on this Moses wrote us of a plan

Except he won’t tell us why

Just what and what we can’t

And how we’ll never walk through the gates of his promised land

Til we shake off our bloody ancestors blues