| You found me at some party
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| You thought I’d understand
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| You barreled over to me
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| With a drink in each hand
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| I respect your beliefs, girl,
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| And I consider you a friend,
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| But I’ve already been born once,
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| I don’t wanna to be born again.
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| Your knowledge is impressive
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| And your argument is good
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| But I am the resurrection, babe,
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| And you’re standing on my foot!
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| But my little boat is empty
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| It don’t go
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| And my oar is broken
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| It don’t row, row, row
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| But my little boat is empty
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| It don’t go
|
| And my oar is broken
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| It don’t row, row, row
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| (row!)
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| Your tiny little face
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| Keeps yapping in the gloom
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| Seven steps behind me
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| With your dustpan and broom.
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| I couldn’t help but imagine you
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| All postured and prone
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| But there’s a little guy on my shoulder
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| Says I should go home alone.
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| You keep leaning in on me
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| And you’re looking pretty pissed
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| That grave you’ve dug between your legs
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| Is hard to resist.
|
| But my little boat is empty
|
| It don’t go
|
| And my oar is broken
|
| It don’t row, row, row
|
| But my little boat is empty
|
| It don’t go
|
| And my oar is broken
|
| It don’t row, row, row
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| Give to God what belongs to god
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| And give the rest to me
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| Tell our gracious host to fuck himself
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| It’s time for us to leave.
|
| But my little boat is empty
|
| It don’t go
|
| And my oar is broken
|
| It don’t row, row, row
|
| But my little boat is empty
|
| It don’t go
|
| And my oar is broken
|
| It don’t row, row, row
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| Row… row… row… row… |