Someone took in these pants   Somebody painted over paint   Painted wood   And where he stood, no one stands   It's been said he's sitting now   In the churning land      Well, I've seen saints, but remember   That I forgot to flag 'em down   When they passed and in the morning light   You hold that ashtray tight   You could put it out   But I can't put it out      My hands shook, down and out   I've got the blisters of the world   World new   I name the book after you   So look up and watch the camera lens   When the risers fade      Slow it down, song is sacred   And brother, you're a hunter and you're right at home   And in the morning light   I'll hold my ashtray tight   I could take it down   And you can't take it down      Don't expect, don't expect   Don't expect, don't expect   Don't expect, don't expect   Don't expect