my guitarist joe earl got religion one wednesday night.
onlyest thing he ever had a personal relationship with was cat miller,
down at the cue and dog,
but up he went, pointin’ at the ceiling like it were rainin double bacon burgers.
i said, joe earl, what made you do that?
he say, i felt the power of the almighty,
makin me all dizzy and swirly like,
and i knew i was on my way to a better place.
it were kinda like you were starrin’ in your own little goldfish funeral, then?
joe earl never was my friend like before, and even stopped tellin me to go fuck myself,
which, to be honest,
i really sort of miss sometimes.