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Well I was talking to a homeless drunk about religion |
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He said, "It's all I got, but it ain't much |
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Well the way I feel these days |
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I'd rather have a gun than a crutch" |
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That makes sense to me |
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It makes sense to me, I must confess |
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That makes sense to me |
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It makes sense to me, I must confess |
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Listen to a little girl, she was a runaway |
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She said, "My daddy treated me like a slave |
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Soiled me in my Momma bed when I was just 15 |
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That's why I had to lay him in his grave!" |
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Well, that makes sense to me |
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It makes sense to me, I must confess |
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That makes sense to me |
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It makes sense to me, I must confess |
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Well I listened to a black man from Atlanta |
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He said, "The time has come to take what's mine |
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And if I must bust a few heads to achieve justice |
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My righteous cause will well explain the crime!" |
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It makes sense to me |
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That makes sense to me, I must confess |
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It makes sense to me |
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That makes sense to me, I must |
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That makes sense to me |
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It makes sense to me, I must confess |
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That makes sense to me now |
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It makes sense to me, I must confess |
