Slow to marry, swift to die,

We leave disasters where they lie,

I know these lines look crooked on paper,

But I swear I got it straight in my head,

And if you're looking for somebody to blame,

I recommend the dead, I recommend the dead,

'Cause they never answer back.

Skinny dipping in the lake,

I got the itch, I drank the wake,

Could somebody please hand me a towel?,

And now we're up on molehill mountain,

Scraping coins out of the fountain,

With a retinue of dirty old young, young men again.

But when I get back from Nashville,

I'm renting a room in the loyalty building,

I'm sure that the prospects are sound,

In the event of calamitous circumstance,

Or great good fortune,

There must be a reason, there must be a plan.

A palace in receivership,

A jester with a busted lip,

A catalogue of crooked answers,

We've all heard about the rapist nun,

She pulled a switch on everyone,

The altar boys are not having fun,

And the papacy is drawing up the papers behind closed doors.

But in the meanwhile,

I'm renting a room in the loyalty building,

I'm sure that the prospects are sound,

In the event of calamitous circumstance,

Or great good fortune,

There must be a reason, there must be a plan.