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Carry the gentle and speak it in code
Tobacco farm valley Columbia road
And I’m fordin I’m fordin
Phone the general and tell him to show
The mark of a legion in diamond and gold
To feed all the people from Hartford to Frisco
They’re tollin they’re tollin
They’re doin rounds of confessions
forgive their ramblin’ ways
they’ll never wait for heaven

For mary and joey and billy who spoke
Of a common folk uprise and takin a toke
And guns with no ammo and they’re pretty much broke
But they’re scheming they’re schemin
They’re soundin their bells, informin the people
Informin them good, but not what they could
What they should and they better believe they’re not jokin’
They’re doin’ rounds of confessions
forgive their ramblin ways
they’ll never wait for heaven

Countin the days and their heads were a-spinnin
With visions of fire and blood for a spillin
The army of women and children and men were a-fillin
With glorious eyes and they see no illusion
They’re restless
Their hands were covered with the sorrow of poison
That’s flooding their wells and the minds of their children
who see through the smile and the hand on their shoulders
Be careful old man
They’re doin’ rounds of confessions
forgive their ramblin ways
they’ll never wait for heaven

A story, a tale, an infamous legend
They left the bodega a quarter to seven
They carried their pens and conviction as weapons
Decided to write and write with compassion
10,000 letters to make it all happen
satyagraha
the story I’m telling bares no conclusion
the only perversion’s your lack of assertion
call on your statesman and force them to listen
remember they do not outnumber the citizen
be diligent
I’m doin rounds of confession
Forgive my ramblin ways
I’ll never wait for heaven

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