It's raining cats and dogs
At a dinner outside of Wichita
Out of money out of breath
I'm out here in the great Midwest
It ain't like you'll walk through that door
A
thousand miles form Baltimore
But if you did you'd see a man
He's drowning in the Promised
Land
And all this time I've just been drifting
And I ain't got nothing left
I've been bent and I've been twisted
Into this state of common sense
My back is up against
the wall
Hopin' that you'll take this call
Collect from Wichita
I left Dunston
Road in a cloud of dust
Screaming black and furious
With slivers in my hand and feet
