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Everybody's talking like they can't sit down And looking like they can't stand upIt must be the latest styleAnd they've seen a lot of things that you never seeBack on the mile up to the hanging treeSome people can't keep their fingers cleanJust clicking their heels to the beat of the sceneTrying to keep clean until the first edition of last night's obituariesJump up, hold on tightCan't trust the promise or a guarantee'Cause the man 'round the curve says that he's never heardOf you or meNo tombstone would ever surprise me When I'm locked in a room about half the size of a matchboxGot holes in my socksThey match the ones that I got in my feetI put my feet in the holes in the street, and somebody paved me overI was a statue standing on the cornerTell me, how else can a boy get to see those pretty pleats?Candidate talkin' on the radio from the "Cheaters Jamboree"It must be their latest fool'Cause it's a two-horse race and he changed his bets Like it was just another brand of cigarettesLetras de cancionesSome people judge and they just guess the restThey can't understand that don't mean that you're blessedThey ought to catch the express, next stop nowhere That way you can forgetJump up, hold on tightCan't trust the promise or a guarantee'Cause the man 'round the curve says that he's never heardOf you or me From Letras Mania