Tommy was a preacher's son
Now he's running through the jungle all, "Yes sir" (yes sir)
Fingers cold and fire
When you get so tired and we're so tired
Lazing back in this desert
Waitin' for that sunny day

Tommy was a preacher's son
Now he's running through the streets sellin' up that cocaine
Those fire eyes will get ya (get ya, get ya, get ya, get ya)
When you get too tired and we're so tired and
Eyes blister beaded fortress rolling fevered freight trains in

Well, I met three men with friends in office
Smooth, dark skin and ivory teeth smiles
Our boots come alive in this mud, in this mud and this shit
This mud, in this mud and this shit

(Life is hard to fill with teeth that bite)

Through August fall of '69, Jesus had birthed him
He spoke in guns through crippled sheets, for Jesus had birthed him
Sugar cubes, fingernails, worming snakes that built the fire
When you get so tired and we're so tired

Oh, Jimmy got impatient
Waiting for that sunny day

Well, I met three men with friends in office
Smooth, dark skin and ivory teeth smiles
Our boots come alive in this mud, in this mud and this shit
This mud, in this mud and this shit

Well, I met three men with friends in office
Smooth, dark skin and ivory teeth smiles
Our boots come alive in this mud, in this mud and this shit

Well, I met three men with friends in office
Smooth, dark skin and ivory teeth smiles
Our boots come alive in this mud, in this mud and this shit
This mud, in this mud and this shit

Copyright: Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): John Gourley