The Blues on Banjo
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Well, I woke up this morning
And I realized
I'm repeating myself
I said I woke up this morning
And I realized
I'm repeating myself
Well, I woke up this morning
They say one and one is two
Well, I have my suspicions
I believe it may well be another one of these
Crazy old religious superstitions
Would you believe the same financial institution
Backing both sides of every war
Since before the French Revolution
Still run the Federal Reserve
And all but just a small handful of nations?
It's a paperclip operation
By even the most reasonable explanation
It may well be the single longest whitest Bronco chase
In the history of the conspiracy of television's all time
There's one for the money
Two for the money
Three for the money
Four for even more monies
Like the seventh wonder was saying
In seventh heaven
Watching the seventh building falling
On 9/11
Screaming
Lockheed Martin, Northrop Grumman, Honeywell and L-3 Communications
These are the corporations selling
Perpetual murder and mass destruction
Under the false flag of my protection
From the shadow branch of a government
Still under the spell of its own addiction
To untold commercialization
While it would seem easy to me to see without too much hesitation
How somebody could just wake up one morning
And come to the Richard Lewis-like conclusion and/or realization
That there was absolutely no hope whatsoever left
For even the slightest portion of our entire civilization
So zippity-doo-dah, motherfucker
Zippity-yay
My, oh my, what a wonderful case of the blues I'm experiencing today
While the air in my motel has been conditioned in just such a way
That it seems like every single note I
Ask this priceless banjo of mine to play
Takes the unmistakable sounds of my depths and my pains and my sorrow
And turns them into some kind of
Embarrassing-sounding hope for tomorrow
And that's not me, man, that's not who I am
You know, we mistake desperate people for the devil all the time
So there is no real way of knowing
What kind of deal it was that I actually signed
But it was my understanding that I would be
The single greatest blues guitar player in the world by now
And I'm not
In fact, to the contrary
I'm just another working fucking schmuck out here
Standing around waiting to get shot in
Yet another tragic addition to an already sorry state of affairs
With yet another set of politicians taking to the top
Of another set of courthouse stairs
You know you are out of ideas
When you get down to your thoughts and your prayers
But that's just what they're down here
Down here on these courthouse stairs
They're sending out their thoughts and their prayers
Yep, they're sending out their thoughts and their prayers to you
I said they're sending out their thoughts and their prayers
Without fortune sticks weeks for delivery
Sending out their thoughts and their prayers
Well, I woke up this morning
And I realized
I'm repeating myself