There’s a coming thunder

And I hate hitchhiking

Under that overpass

Where the homeless live

At least in my mind

And I suppose I always know

That a wind’s gonna come

But that night I was not ready

And wonder if I am today

Because a sloth is living

A slumber is besetting

And I can’t lift my arms

My limbs are heavy

And my mind is slow

So I’ll drown in that watery grave

In a million ways

If I don’t go to a far off place

To be with my Father