Now the oil's gone And the money's gone All the jobs are gone Still we're hangin' on Down in dry county To wash the sins from off our hands Praying for some holy water The promise has run dry Where nobody cries

Oil on water They lie together, oh Someone's daughter And they lie upon her, oh So her fingers ran away with themselves 'Till everything was documented Our mind it was reaching out To put into words what their bodies had done It's a catalogue of modern

Of the tragedies in man Lurking in the core of us all The last dying call for the everlost Brief encounters, bleeding pain Lepers coiled 'neath the trees Dying men in bewildered soliloquys Perversions bloom round the bend Seekers, lost in their quest