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Boys from the street, slum childs come in here together
Boots wrapped in rope and wire
And black hands in cold leather
But I am not one of them. No, I am not one of them
But they all know me by name. They all know me by name
Men in the aisles, closed eyes and gold dust on their fingers
They say soon God will come, so hold your tongue
Donât let your vices linger
They say Elijah was carried off,
caught up in a chariot made of flame
So we too will ride in cars that shine
If you name it, itâs yours to claim
But I am not one of them. No, I am not one of them
But they all know me by name. They all know me by name
Girls from the corner, coming from the Corinthian Quarters
Thatâs my place on Jackson
The Preacher and the Politician, the Working Man
They come looking to me, they come asking
I know soon God will come and even if I run
His horsemen bound to find me
Heâll ask me why Iâve done the things Iâve done
And Iâll tell Him you made the mouths I feed
And Iâll say, I am not one of them
I am not one of them
But Heâll turn to me and say,
Oh, I donât know you by name!
No, I donât know you by name!
And Iâll think to myself,
You never did make known to me Your ways