I wake up in the morning
and I raise my weary head
I've got a tv for a prophet
how I wish that screen was dead
I don't know where we're going
I don't know where god has been
angels on the run
devil's undercover
generations in the bin
when you're brought into this world
they say you're born in sin
under your skin
the microchip is in
and a not so secret pin
now they tell me that I'm wanted
and sure, I understand
I'm a leg of your table
I'm what Cain was to Abel
Georgie, catch me if you can

That's when I reach for my revolver
that's when it all gets blown away

That's when I reach for my revolver
that's when it all gets blown away

You ask about my writings
I show a paper full of names
while the ink-stain smear in the rain
we agree they're men of pain
you ask about my childhood
am I a relative of Cain?
yes indeed Lord, aren't we really all?
I mean aren't we all the same?
the silence in your answer
it really says it all
like the seed and the grain
we must be the same
different stages, that is all
now you tell me I'm the bullet
someone else is the gun
I don't even aim
and if I knew the game
you really wouldn't have much fun


That's when I reach for my revolver
that's when it all gets blown away

That's when I reach for my revolver
that's when god gets blown away