Before we wrote the bible there were honest men   Dressed like horses and their hands like satin   And somewhere in the skies where all the ballads go   When singers are tired and leave their homes      But we are continental drifters by design   We've got no more money laying down the line   So there's no distraction, no useless action, there's no time   There's no water damage      Call me home   I might answer      The old country's disasterous   After us   There is nothing left to wear that could flatter us   And all our vices fight for themselves      You are the chorus in my adverse life   We spread out our possessions all the time   All useless lessons and all the given names   Are poorly written and thrown away      So call me   I'll answer      The old country's disasterous   After us   There is nothing left to wear that could flatter us