The Thirty-Third Of August

Well, today there's no salvation

The band's packed up and gone

Left me standin' with a penny in my hand

There's a big crowd at the station

Where a blind man sings his songs

And he can see what I can't understand

It's the thirty-third of August

And I'm finally touchin' down

Eight days from Sunday, Lord

I'm Saturday-bound

Once I stumble through the darkness, tumble to my knees

A thousand voices screamin' through my brain

Woke up in the squad car, busted down for vagrancy

And outside my cell, sure as hell, it looked like rain

It's the thirty-third of August

I'm finally touchin' down

Eight days from Sunday, Lord

I'm Saturday-bound

Now I put my angry feelin' under lock and chain

I hide my violent nature with a smile

Though the demons dance and sing their songs

Within my fevered brain

Not all my God-like thoughts, Lord, are defiled

It's the thirty-third of August

And I'm finally touchin' down

Eight days from Sunday, Lord

I'm Saturday-bound

It's the thirty-third of August

I'm finally touchin' down

Eight days from Sunday, Lord

I'm Saturday-bound