| «No one comes down our road
|
| So now would they know
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| If we had a saint in here?»
|
| My mother said «well
|
| They could just tell»
|
| But I would not stop there
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| I said «Larry, he could be one
|
| He just sits out front
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| He has time to pray»
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| My mother said «No
|
| I don’t think so» but I believed anyway
|
| 'Cause I thought that he looked like Jessu
|
| Savior of our neighborhood
|
| If everyone could just see us
|
| They’d know he was misunderstood
|
| No one who lives in this town
|
| Could get past the sound
|
| Of Larry on Sundays
|
| That’s when he talks to himself
|
| And hears the angels
|
| He says that they say
|
| «Larry, you are the one
|
| Our chosen son
|
| We’re talking to you»
|
| My mother said «Please
|
| Don’t be deceived»
|
| But I said «it could be true»
|
| 'Cause I thought that he looked like Jessu
|
| Not that I thought he was
|
| When he shot at one of our neighbors
|
| And went away in handcuffs
|
| No one came down our road
|
| 'til Larry came home
|
| 'til Larry made bail
|
| Then he had the crews from all the t.v. |
| news
|
| And he had hate mail
|
| And Larry stopped sitting out
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| Stopped talking about
|
| The voices he knew
|
| My motehr saud «shame
|
| How he’s so afraid now
|
| Even of you»
|
| And I thought that he looked like Jesus
|
| Like maybe he could still make us well
|
| But he looked out and saw the strangers
|
| And turned the gun on himself
|
| Ho sanna hey sanna ho sanna hey
|
| Sanna ho sanna hey |