| Elder Green is dead and gone
|
| Lost his way going to town
|
| Don’t know who he is or what he’s done
|
| But it sure sounds sweet rolling off the tongue
|
| Yeah it sure sounds sweet rolling off the tongue
|
| If I was in an old hotel
|
| That happened to be on fire
|
| Maybe I’d jump or
|
| Maybe I’d reconsider
|
| Then I’d climb a little higher
|
| Like an oily rag
|
| In a dusty corner
|
| Like a box of matches near an open flame
|
| I’d jump 18 stories from a burning fire
|
| Sooner than I’d face this world of shame
|
| Yeah I’d skip this town and
|
| Jump a westbound train
|
| Take these fingerlings from my fingers
|
| Spoken with your breath
|
| With white-washed eyes
|
| And flies that linger
|
| Seems rather forlorn and bereft
|
| I said where you goin' with that sack on your shoulder Willie
|
| As if I couldn’t have guessed
|
| He says I’m gonna get the hell
|
| Out of Slag Valley and take a little stroll way out west
|
| If I was in an old hotel
|
| That happened to be on fire
|
| Maybe I’d jump or
|
| Maybe I’d reconsider
|
| Then I’d climb a little higher
|
| Like an oily rag
|
| In a dusty corner
|
| Like a box of matches near an open flame
|
| I’d get so far away
|
| From that old matchbox hotel
|
| Man I’d skip this town and
|
| Jump a westbound train
|
| Anything to get away from this shame
|
| Take these fingerlings from my fingers
|
| Spoken with your breath
|
| With white-washed eyes
|
| And flies that linger
|
| Seems rather forlorn and bereft
|
| I said where you goin' with that sack on your shoulder Willie
|
| As if I couldn’t have guessed
|
| He says I’m gonna get the hell
|
| Out of Slag Valley and take a little stroll way out west |