The coroner threw a party, at the county jail. It was bare light bulbs, and green concrete. Minute Maid and processed cheese. And I, I was the entertainment. I, was the topic of conversation. So I did my best impressions. And I heard the priest's confessions. And I joined the prison band. I'm not sure how, they seemed so nice. Pretty, sad and tough. the prison gangs line up, and they sing to me. They sing, the truth sounds like a lie. And you won't know when you die, if you've been cheated, cheated or spared, Soon enough, the sheriff's deputy backs in to me. It's only nine A.M., the party only just began. I tell him you will spend the next ten years, working out the last six monthes. It's easier to lie to an audience, when no one's listening.
One more ride home. One more gas station. You will spend the next ten years (one more ride home). Working out the last six monthes (one more gas station).
Pretty, sad and tough. The prison guards line up, and they slowly shake my hand. They say the truth sounds like a lie. And you won't know when you die, if you've been cheated, cheated or spared or spared. Pretty and tough, the warden always gets it up. The prison boys are rough, so the warden cuffs 'em up. I tell them you will spend the next ten years, working out the last six monthes. It's easier to lie. It's always easier to lie.
You take us one step further out the door. You take us one step further out the door. Further out the door. Further out the door.
Oh one more ride home. Oh one more gas station. One more week. They tell me. They tell me. One more walk through my parents living room. And then you sit there. Can we get you anything.