Bad luck comes in from Tampa   Bad luck comes in from Tampa   On the back of a truck   Doing ninety up the interstate      We have bad dreams the night he rolls in   We have bad dreams the night he rolls in   And we try to keep our sprits high   But they flag and they wane   When the truck pulls up out front   In the light spring rain   And they sag like withering flowers   Let the good times roll on   Through these first few desperate hours      Yeah the driver drops his cargo at the curb   The driver drops his cargo at the curb   And the sun peeks in   Like a killer through the curtain      And when cloven hoof prints turn up in the garden   Yeah when cloven hoof prints turn up in the garden   We keep up the good fight   We keep our spirits light      But they drop like flies   And there's a stomach-churning shift   In the way the land lies   And they lean like towers   On a hillside struggling to stand   Through these first few desperate hours   Yeah