well if it ain't your time to go

then you'd better stay put for now

cuz everybody's gotta do their time until it's time

and if it ain't broken, then break it

and say you knew me way back when

we're fools, we're fools

and all rest were swine waiting to be defiled

well I could hang up my shingle

out by the side of the road

and try to bang a flame out of the cinders you left behind

like a driftwood in the night

that was washed up by the light

of the moon that bleached my bones

that sent me to the pile

mustard in your smile

land a hand on the radio dial

and the breezes of the season

have blown us back to hell

it's a stolen telephone

that I dialed blind and alone

just to hear the voice of a bargain center soul

now the deserts are inflamed

and the bandages are the same

and the factories, casualties are looking for mangled joes(?)

and if it ain't your time to go

then you'd better stay put for now

cuz anybody gotta put their hand

upon the hand of the clock

like the minds of misers grinding down their gears to a halt