Blow the top off and roll away
Sell the farm for a dim-lit stage
Drink the water
Give her all you've saved
I got friends all over the place
Send me postcards
“Hey where you been?”
See the saints go marching in
Before I leave she washed my clothes
While I fathom to the bottom of this well
Roar down the hallway with a riot on our lips
There is something in your eyes that makes me slip
I hope you miss me
My oldest friend
When the saints go marching in