Got good grease upon my saddle
Got new boots for the set of wings
Old Saint Pete, he told me bluntly,
"We let you in, friend, for the songs you sing
For the songs you sing"
I dug a deep hole on Sunday
Grabbed the songs and planted them
Watered them with such good juices
They began to sparkle, they begin to spin
Your teens they grew 'til they turned noble
A song it flew like the first stampede
You gave your all 'til you got broken
We let you in, friend, for the songs you sing
For the songs you sing
You broke the law, you got busted
You cut the deck with the Desert Queen
We saw beyond your rawhide leather
We let you in, friend, for the songs you sing
For the songs you sing
Got good grease upon my saddle
Got new boots and a set of wings
Old Saint Pete, he told me bluntly,
"We let you in, friend, for the songs you sing
For the songs you sing
We let you in, friend, for the songs you sing
For the songs you sing
For the songs you sing"