Poor Misguided Soul Songtext / Lyric

On the plains of the Buffalo, Madam will take it slow

Your gambling days are gone, you poor misguided soul

At the last ditch you will weep for the shadows in the garbage heap

Like a pig roasting on a spit, your poor misguided soul






If the horse's mouth could speak, his days would turn to weeks

You'd be bored with all that you know, you poor misguided soul

When the cactus makes your bed, you'll stay awake instead

By the bones in the old campfire, your poor misguided soul



Your one dollar up in heaven is worth five more in hell

And your friends, they will not miss you, your poor misguided soul