| Lyrics: | Transcribed by:
Brian Whitman
I was talking to a
homeless drunk about religion
He said "It's all I got, but it ain't much
'Cause the way I
feel these days,
I'd rather have a gun than a crutch"
Well, that makes sense to
me
It makes sense to me, I must confess
That makes sense to me
It makes sense to me,
I must confess
Well, I was talking to a little girl, she was a runaway
She said, "My
daddy treated me like a slave
(This line is destined to become WSP's very own You Enjoy
Myself...
Suggestions include:
He shoved me in my mama's
bed when I was just 15
He sure made my mama's bed when I was just
15
He sold me in my mama's bed when I was just 15
He showed me my mama's bed when I was just 15
And many
others... )
That's why I had to lay him in his grave"
That makes sense to
me
That makes sense to me, I must confess
That makes sense to me
It makes sense to
me, I must...
I was talking to a black man from Atlanta
He said, "The time has come
to take what's mine
And if I must bust some heads to achieve justice
My righteous cause
will well explain the crime"
Makes sense to me
That makes sense to me, I must
confess
That makes sense to me
Well, it makes sense to me, I must...
That makes
sense to me
That makes sense to me, I must confess
Makes sense to me
That makes sense
to, I must |
