Well there ain’t no room for banjo in the suburbs
You can’t sit on a curb in the suburbs
You can’t sit on a curb in the suburbs
If you don’t own anything, you better keep moving
And then its one too many days in the packing plant
You take the fish out of water and put him in a can
You take the fish out of water and put him in a can
You can snap, and blame it on the packing plant
You spend all day at the old A You spend all day at the old A Its funny when you’re young;
When you’re old you’re gonna fit in You’re at the edge of the land with you head in your hands
Well all the boat are sinking
There’s no use in thinking
You could float away
Elijah was a prophet, not a saviour
Elijah was a prophet, not a saviour
Elijah was a prophet, not a saviour
Thats the last thing I need
Well I’m gonna lay down now
Throw some dirt on me
I’m gonna lay down now
Throw some dirt on me Hold my head on the tee
But throw some dirt on me Well i know I’m still moving
Throw some dirt on me The old guy said i could use fine machinery
I only lost one arm
Throw some dirt on me Use a park accent that dance is coming back to me
I can’t stop the screaming
Throw some dirt on me The only gold rush is in the silicon valley
Throw some dirt on me Elijah said I will never be free
Throw some dirt on me