Gravy Train

We are waiting.
We are waiting for the gravy train.
All my friends are gone in the wood, rushing gold with murder mood don’t be
fooled
Everything resurrects from the soil, and in the mud we’re not boys or girls
anymore.
Gold is murder mood we don’t think Gold is murder mood we don’t sing,
Mud is where we stand we can’t feel Mud is where we stand because
Gold is murder mood we can’t breath Gold is murder mood we can’t drink that
Mud in which we dig we can’t think Cause Mud is where we stand.
We found this black gold, in the depths of the river.
We turned over this black mud, with a twisted branch.
We don’t want to miss these great things.
We are waiting.
We are waiting for the gravy train.