The boy's in trouble the boy's in trouble again Son of a working man but the man he holds things in Monday's quiet the boys got hope and doubt There may be god on Sunday but the man he lets things Out And if a day like this can beat down on my door Without a signal of what it was intended for I'll need a night like this to drive the voices out of range And my ordinary life might change Someone calls in a fog but I don't know what's mine He's talking in circles but he means it this time Full of wisdom full of culture full of shit and so Kiss me on the forehead you can let your concience go