Mercy

I got a ragtime formula inside of my head

A-comin’ back to me now from the ages of the dead

If Tom Waits could yodel and I’ll bet that he’d can…

It up inside his head until it came a-crawlin’ back from the…

What do you do with a poison in your head?

Seepin’ and a-creepin’ into every single bed

Into your dreams, when you wake and you bake and you make

Every little try, but you can’t and you cry, “Mercy, mercy over me”

I’m just a cowboy singer and I’m trying all I can

To wake the spirit and the soul and to place it in your hand

Or take the holy Bible, and make you all liable

To sing in every church, in every bar in every land…

Or like a blackjack dealer I’m a-dealin’ out the cards

You fumble with your soul and you gamble with your lard…

But you can’t get to heaven if it’s where you want to go

You can’t use fat… you’ve got to gamble with your soul

Gamble with your soul

No, you can’t go to church just to claim you’ve got a soul

You can’t pay the piper with your silver and your gold

You can’t run and hide from the burning inside

It’s your soul calling you…

So you’d better make time for a date with a with a wild jungle ape

Scratchin’ and a-grabbin’ in a wild jungle way

No, you can’t retire, you’ve got to look him in the eye

You’ve got to tangle with your soul

Dance with the fire, got to dance with the fire

Well, you could call yourself a Christian, or a Muslim or a Jew…

You could call yourself a prophet or a liar or a fool…

But when the chips are on the table, you can’t use coal

You can’t use fat, you’ve got to gamble…

When the time draws near to lay down and die

And the sun is setting fast on a last blue sky

Will you say “Please!”, will you say, “Please!”

…it’s too late friends, for all your mercy over me

All your mercy over me