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Chicago Seemed Tired Last Night

Nelson Algren came to Paddy at some party at the dead end alley

Yeah, he told him what to celebrate

And I met William Butler Yeats, Sunday night dance party, summer 1988

At first I thought it might be William BlakeWe mix our own mythologies, we push them out through PA systems

We dictate our doxologies and try to get sleeping kids to sit up and listen

And I'm not saying we could save you, but we could put you in a place where you could save yourself

If you don't get born again at least you'll get high as hellYeah, and sweet St. Paul, that must be the hardest luck saint of them all

We met him at some suburban St. Paul mall

But when St. Theresa came to Holly, I wasn't even at that party

I'd already moved out to New York CityWhen Judas went up and kissed him

I almost got sick

I guess I knew what was coming

I guess I knew it was comingWe gather our gospels from gossip and bar talk then we declare them the truth

We salvage our sermons from message boards and scene reports and we sic them on the youth

We try out new testaments on the guys sitting next to us in the bars with the bars on the windows, alright

Even if you don't get converted tonight, you gotta admit the band's pretty tightThey did "She's Got Legs" into "Ain't Too Proud To Beg"

Into something by the Dixie Dregs

And they faked their way through "Fairytale of New York"

When the band finished playing we howled out for moreHey Nelson Algren, Chicago seemed tired last night

They had cigarettes where there were supposed to be eyes

Hey William Butler Yeats, all the Irish seemed wired last night

They tried to separate our girls from our guysThey had cigarettes where there were supposed to be eyes

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