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And appreciate the rhythm that you hear

Oh Mr. Crosby (Oh hear me talking to you)
No Mr. Crosby,
I'm afraid that type of rhythm's not for me
I prefer my
would Bob do?

I was knocking on the pearly gates, made of precious stone
Looked kind of other worldly, inside there was a throne
I was let in by
it's B.o.B., flyer than a stewardess
Fresh to death like I'm dressed for a eulogy
My outfit's retarded, my flow is the stupidest, dumb
I'll probably need
And as the trucks drive by
You can hear the mother fuckers go "PUNK!"

A couple of lines, an extra thermos of Joe
He'll be kicking in heads at the punk rock show
I hear voices but there's no one there,
You speak to me in another language.
Computer says it's a binary code,
It's such a pity I can't understand
you talking to me 
I can't hear ya while your talking to me 
I can't hear ya trying to be my Lord 
I can't hear ya talking two by four 
Friction,
can't hear you are you talking to me
I can't hear you are you talking to me
I can't hear you trying to be my Lord
I can't hear you talking two by four
get away 
Runnin around 
And as the trucks drive by 
You can hear the mother fuckers go "PUNK!" 

A couple of lines, an extra thermos of joe
get away 
Runnin around 
And as the trucks drive by 
You can hear the mother fuckers go "PUNK!" 

A couple of lines, an extra thermos of joe
And as the trucks drive by
You can hear the mother fuckers go "PUNK!"

A couple of lines, an extra thermos of Joe
He'll be kicking in heads at the punk rock show
roll mercenaries
Soldiers of fortune by some other name
I'm talking about rock 'n' roll mercenaries
Money is power, 'n' power is fame

Everything
In the county Tyrone, in the town of Dungannon
Where many a ruckus meself had a hand in
Bob Williamson lived there, a weaver by trade
And all
Whoa not me
Whoa oh oh

Sometimes I close up to the world
You know I close up to you girl
But when I hear you talking
I feel my heart unlocking
And my
You're all I have
You're all I have

At night when the stars
Light up my room
I sit by myself
Talking to the moon
Tryin' to get to you
In hopes
're all I have
You're all I have

At night when the stars
light up my room
I sit by myself
Talking to the Moon
Try to get to You
In hopes you
get away 
Runnin around 
And as the trucks drive by 
You can hear the mother fuckers go "PUNK!" 

A couple of lines, an extra thermos of joe
hear the loud voices, that's my homies calling
Open up the windows, let the angels fall in

As I bob and weave between stars
Learn and dream between
In the county Tyrone, in the town of Dungannon
Where many a ruckus meself had a hand in
Bob Williamson lived there, a weaver by trade
And all
and drink my lonestar beer
From Austin up to Dallas, Amarillo to el paso
You can here bob wills bill mack and me on your radio

Don't ask me why I'm going
more
Another galaxy we must go

Come and go with me, I'll take you to my galaxy
I'm talking Venus, Jupiter, Mars, Mars, Mars
And I'm saying girl,
So you know everything about your lover
Want to bet
My oh my
How can this be there he goes
Talking in his sleep
By and by
He will connive does he
We talking about fiction
Hold up, pardon my back

I'm talking about life (life, life)
And all I hear is "oh yeah he keeps talking 'bout crack",
I
We talking about fiction
Hold up, pardon my back

I'm talking about life (life, life)
And all I hear is "oh yeah he keeps talking 'bout crack",
I
Words and music by Bob Hartman
Based on Job 13:22

I've been away for a little while
And I don't like where it takes me
Out of touch I'm going out
poor Bob at last
And then one thing, certainly
They have stones all in my path

Trying to take my life
And all my loving too
You laid a pathway for

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