You ain't got no money? He'll get you some.
You ain't got no car? He'll get you one.
You ain't got no self-respect,
you feel like an insect
Well don't you worry buddy,
cause here he comes
Through the ghettos and the barrio
and the bowery and the slum
A shadow is cast wherever he stands
Stacks of green paper in his
red right hand.
Take a little walk to the edge of town
Go across the tracks,
Where the viaduct looms, like a bird of doom,
As it shifts and cracks.
Where secrets lie in the border fires,
In the humming wires.
Hey, man, you know you're never coming back,
Past the square, past the bridge, past the mills, past the stacks,
On a gathering storm comes a tall handsome man
In a dusty black coat with a red right hand.
Mass extinction, darling, hypocrisy...
These things are not good for me.
Do you see what I see, dear?
But what do we really know of the dead?
And who actually cares?
I don't know what it is,
But there's definitely something going on upstairs!
I don't claim to understand
The troubles that you've had.
But the dogs you say they fed you to
Lay their muzzles in your lap
And the lions that they led you to
Lie down and take a nap.
The ones you fear are wind and air,
And I love you without measure.
It seems we can be happy now,
Be it better late than never.
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