The End of Days

Guys named Bud who work for
   the town
Volunteer firefighters in SUVs
Hey Shorty, name that tune for the
   month of June
DMX has been spotted in Applebees


The sirens are crying and the cops
   are flying
They're all going different ways
Sinatra lost her to the summer wind
We all get a little desperate at the
    end of days


They're all real big and most of it's muscle
Their caps are on backwards but their heads are on straight
They look a little like Buddhas but not so serene
One for my baby, one for the road, one just because it's getting late


The sirens are crying and the cops are flying
They're all going different ways
The piano man says only the good die young
We all get a little desperate at the end of days

The bartender's kind of heavy but
     she's real sweet
The waitresses are all like family
The guys are too old and the girls
     are too young
Nothing's as pretty as what's
    on the TV






The sirens are crying and the cops are flying
They're all going different ways
Twenty, twenty-four hours to go, I need
    to be sedated
We all get a little desperate at the end of days

The Yankees won, the Mets lost
This Sunday is said to be the Pentecost
Everyone in here is already speaking in tongues
They don't understand though it's all the same one


The sirens are crying and the cops are flying
They're all going different ways
Can't you see, can't you see, what that woman
    been doing to me?
We all get a little desperate at the end of days

The swimming coach pours a shot of Bacardi
    into his Corona
He turns the bottle upside down and covers it
    with his thumb
God bless the McGuckins and the girl halfway
    down with the long dark hair
Who tells her phone, I don't know, he got kind
    of weird when I asked if I could come

The sirens are crying and the cops
    are flying
They're all going different ways
Get up, stand up, stand up for
    your rights
We all get a little desperate at the
    end of days


Coyotes on the firehouse lawn
Clouds of bats returning home
Crows up on the telephone wire
Taunting me for being so alone


The sirens are crying and the cops are flying
They're all going different ways
Lord I was born a ramblin' man
We all get a little desperate at the end of days

Runner

Last night I slept in a doorway
The rain was soft and fair
The utilities were digging up the street
But none of them saw me there


Cause I was like a Tarahumara
Like a Tarahumara
Like an Indian
Like an Indian
Like a ghost in the canyon where
    the conquistadores
Have never even been
Like a Tarahumara
Like a Tarahumara
Like an Indian
Like an Indian


Then one of them noticed me
And they all got kind of nervous
Don't know if it was cause I was still here
Or because I had no need for the service


Cause I was like a Tarahumara
Like a Tarahumara
Like an Indian
Like an Indian
Drifting like a cloud across the mountainside
With the wildfire still blazing
Like a Tarahumara
Like a Tarahumara
Like an Indian
Like an Indian


Well even if they whistle you for a false start
Just keep going, don't look back
Just so long as your path has heart
The perfect runner leaves no track
After many, many hundreds of miles
I overtook myself at last
I made pretty good time overall
On my journey through the past


Like a Tarahumara
Like a Tarahumara
Like an Indian
Like an Indian
Like a spirit already long since finished
Before his race was even run
Like a Tarahumara
Lke a Tarahumara
Like an Indian
Like an Indian
Like a coyote in the shadow of the wilderness
At the setting of the sun
Like a runner . . . 
Like a runner . . .


Like a runner . . . fading away
Like a runner . . . fading away
Like a runner . . . fading away