Me and Lazarus, we shovel all the ashes out
Black bare linens blowing 'round
Back and forth and up and down

Oh, oh, whoa
Guess I had nowhere else to go

Me and Lazarus kept bailing on that riverboat
Floating by the choir rose
Bobbing in the ebb and flow

Whoa, whoa, whoa
Guess I had nowhere else to go

He's an emancipated punk and he can dance
But he's got a hole in the pocket of his pants
Must be a symptom of outstanding circumstances

Whoa, whoa, whoa

Me and Lazarus, we fiddle with a baby spoon
Fever flowing through the room
Far too long and way too soon

Oh, whoa, whoa
Guess I had nowhere else to go

Me and Lazarus, we pick up papa's white boy blues
Hand-me-downs and Sunday shoes
Never made the local news

Whoa, whoa, whoa
Guess I had nowhere else to go

And I'm a liberated loser that can roam
But where my pocket was I'm peeking through a hole
A couple second chances surely would console me

Whoa, whoa, whoa

Copyright: Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): SAMUEL ERVIN BEAM