Well I know everything’s alright
Sat on my tattooed ass tonight
Chain smoking my mom’s Virginia Slims
Humming golden ringing hymns

A used glove is in the trash bin
Beneath Sunday morning’s bulletin
No worries worming through my head
No stains to mar this holy bed

Two years ago I sold my soul
So I could get out on parole
Starting to sing those hymns aloud
Ignoring that dead bitch underground