Jesus on the Telephone

Let me out
Of these mental ward confines
So white and plain
Free my mind
From prescriptions that you write
I'm not the same

Young kid with the see-through skin
All arteries and veins
Spun out in the family car
Trying to make my way
Home

Are you ready to put me under
'Cause I'm ready to go back home
I don't care what the doctors told me
I spoke to Jesus on the telephone

He said, "Lace up your shoes and quit playing the blues"
I'm gonna take me to a better place
Where the sun always shines and the light in your eyes
Is always tended like a burning flame

Na na, na na na na na
Na na na na na na
Na na, na na na na na
Na na na na na na

Write me up
On a list of who was cured
And what was slain
Like a glove
With the blood of who you hurt
I'm thrown away
Because I'm-

Half gone, don't know what I'm on
My vision blurs and shakes
You don't need a PhD
To be the one to break
Me

Are you ready to call my mother
And my father, my sister too
'Cause I'm going to higher places
And I'm so sorry I'm not taking you

So I'll lace up my shoes and quit playing the blues
I'm gonna take me to a better place
Where the sun always shines and the light in your eyes
Is always tended like a burning flame

Where the sun always shines and the bells never chime
And the undertaker stays away
Yeah

Na na, na na na na na
Na na na na na na
Na na, na na na na na
Na na na na na na