In 1848 the PRB was rebelling
Canker sore canking, bringing all the bacon home
A man in the alley, wasn't too happy
Hardly a salary to buy a ticket for his bus ride home
He wrote a letter to the Bishop of Rome
But though the letter arrived, it was deprived
Like some fan club or petition
They tried to eighty six him
And their silence wiped him out
Do you know the path of the sinner
Crying his name out loud
Do you wanna be in, in like Flynn
Like a greasy pig in a pen
Or do you wanna be like them?
But Sequoia cast his Cherokee spell
And maybe some day you'll have a story to tell
And all the gods before you
Who used to all ignore you
When you needed a helping hand
When you needed just a friend
When you were three sheets to the wind
Quetzalcoatl God of the Spheres
Ruling the wind and the sun
Held a palm tree under his thumb
And with a gust of wind he sung
Do you know the path of the sinner
Crying his name out loud
Do you wanna be in, in like Flynn
Like a greasy pig in a pen
Or do you wanna be like them?
But Sequoia cast his Cherokee spell
And maybe some day you'll have a story to tell
And all the gods before you
Who used to all ignore you
When you needed a helping hand
When you needed just a friend
When you were three sheets to the wind
Last September we moved to the coast
Learning the names of the stars
How the sand bar got so far
And about the Scorpions on Mars
Do you know the path of the sinner
Crying his name out loud
Do you wanna be in, in like Flynn
Like a greasy pig in a pen
Or do you wanna be like them?
But Sequoia cast his Cherokee spell
And maybe some day you'll have a story to tell
And all the gods before you
Who used to all ignore you
When you needed a helping hand
When you needed just a friend
When you were three sheets to the wind