This old town is filled with sin
It will swallow you in
If you've got some money to burn
Take it home right away
You've got three years to pay
But Satan is waiting his turn
The scientists say
It will all wash away
But we don't believe any more
Cause we've got our recruits
And our green mohair suits
So please show your I.D. At the door
This old earthquake's gonna leave me in the poor house
It seems like this whole town's insane
On the thirty-first floor a gold plated door
Won't keep out the Lord's burning rain
A friend came around
Tried to clean up this town
His ideas made some people mad
But he trusted his crowd
So he spoke right out loud
And they lost the best friend they had
This old earthquake's gonna leave me in the poor house
It seems like this whole town's insane
On the thirty-first floor a gold plated door
Won't keep out the Lord's burning rain
On the thirty-first floor a gold plated door
Won't keep out the Lord's burning rain
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written by HILLMAN, CHRISTOPHER / PARSONS, GRAM
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group