Оригинален текст
Thanks, Lord,
But I don't need anymore poor advice.
Caught in a canon with a one way ticket.
Four riders in a town with one horse.
I've wagered a sure thing against what was behind the first door.
Stack the chips; ready to ride.
Out of sight, out of mind.
Its fool-proof and it wont do to make safe bets,
While I'm towing the line.
Thanks, Lord, but I don't need anymore poor advice, poor advice.
I had a lock on a dirty little secret;
A raging bull who was fixed to fall down.
I've been waiting at ringside my whole life,
But still slinging on.
I've got death piling high.
I've got addiction's ex-wives.
But I stay true,
So I thank you for bearing witness while I waste my fucking life.
I, I'm ready to pay the judge.
To pay the judge.
Now I need to tip the scale,
Some sort of bribery.
I'm not waiting this out.
I need to pay the judge.
To pay the judge.
Now I need to grease a palm;
Some sort of certainty.
I'm sick of waiting this out.
I should have learned a more noble craft,
Out of the library into the lab.
And will the machine gunners please step forth?
Will the machine gunners please step forth?
There's only room on this rescue boat,
For butchers and bakers and men with hope.
And will the machine gunners please step forth?
Will the machine gunners please step forth?
Thanks, Lord,
But I don't need anymore poor advice.