Ed Belly

That's one, two, one, two, three, four

I said, "Ed Belly watched telly in a highway motel room"

Well, he felt at ease in the tat and sleaze in the neon midnight gloom

For so long, every song in his heart and in his head

He fantasized, romanticized, the lonesome life he led

Well, he sang about anti-heroes, drifters, weirdos, big dreamers from small towns

Cyberpunks, grifters, drunks, and retired rodeo clowns

The dispossessed, the dissipated, the desperate, and the damned

Well, the lower the dog, the higher the cat, the more he loved their band

And for years, he waited with bated breath

Through clouds of skag and crystal meth

He waits so patiently for death

With the quick and the unbruised

With sunken eyes, he scanned the earth

His head down so low, his neck did hurt

It's a small wonder his spine's not curved

Kept his head so low

Yes, but all the while, his ears were tingling

For troubled souls have a song worth singing

Yeah, Hell's bells were ding-a-linging all along the road

I said, "All, all along that road"