Tombstone Blues
Sheryl Crow: Live from Central Park (1999)

The sweet pretty things are in bed now of course
The city fathers, they're trying to endorse
The reincarnation of Paul Revere's horse
But the town has no need to be nervous

The ghost of Belle Starr, she hands down her wits
To Jezebel, a nun, she violently knits
A bald wig for Jack the Ripper who sits
At the head of the chamber of commerce

Mama's in the factory, she ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley; he's looking for food
'm in the kitchen with the tombstone blues

The hysterical bride in the penny arcade
Screaming she moans, "I've just been made"
And sends out for the doctor, who pulls down the shade
And says, "My advice is to not let the boys in."

Now the medicine man comes and he shuffles inside
He walks with a swagger and he says to the bride,
"Stop all this weeping, swallow your pride
You will not die, it's not poison"

Mama's in the factory, she ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley; he's looking for food
I'm in the kitchen with the tombstone blues

Well John the Baptist, after torturing a thief
Looks up at his hero, the commander in chief
Saying, "Tell me great hero, but please make it brief
Is there a hole for me to get sick in?"

The commander in chief answers him while chasing a fly
Saying, "Death to all those that would whimper and cry"
And dropping a barbell, he points to the sky
Saying, "The sun's not yellow, it's chicken"

Mama's in the factory, she ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley; he's looking for food
I'm in the kitchen with the tombstone blues

The king of the Philistines, his soldiers to save
Puts jawbones on their tombstones, and flatters their graves
Puts the Pied Pipers in Prison and fattens the slaves
Then sends them out to the jungle

Gypsy Davey, with a blowtorch, he burns out their camps
With his faithful slave Pedro behind him he tramps
With a fantastic collection of stamps
To win friends and influence his uncle

Mama's in the factory, she ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley; he's looking for food
I'm in trouble with the tombstone blues

The geometry of innocent flesh on the bone
Causes Gallileo's math book to get thrown
At Delila who's sitting worthlessly alone
But the tears on her cheeks are from laughter

I wish I could give brother Bill his big thrill
I would set him in chains at the top of the hill
Then send out for some pillars and Cecil B. Demille
He could die happily ever after

Mama's in the factory, she ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley; he's looking for food
I'm in the kitchen with the tombstone blues

Well Ma Raney and Beethoven once unwrapped a bedroll
Tuba players now rehearse around the flag pole
And the National Bank at a profit sells roadmaps for the soul
To the old folks home and the college

I wish I could write you a melody so plain
That would hold you dear lady from going insane
That would ease you and cool you and cease the pain
Of your useless and pointless knowledge

Mama's in the factory, she ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley; he's looking for food
I'm in the kitchen with the tombstone blues



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