Chicago Seemed Tired Last Night

Nelson Algren came to Paddy at some party at the dead end alley
Yeah, he told him what to celebrate
And I met William Butler Yeats, Sunday night dance party, summer 1988
At first, I thought it might be William Blake

We mix our own mythologies, we push them out through PA systems
We dictate our doxologies and try to get sleeping kids to sit up and listen
And I'm not saying we could save you, but we could put you in a place where you could save yourself
And if you don't get born again, at least you'll get high as hell

Yeah, and sweet St. Paul, that must be the hardest luck saint of them all
Uh, we met him at some suburban St. Paul mall
Yeah, St. Theresa came to Holly, but I wasn't even at that party
I'd already moved out to New York City

Yeah, when Judas went up and kissed him
I almost got sick
I guess I knew what was coming
I guess I knew it was coming

We gather our gospels from gossip and bar talk then we declare them the truth
We salvage our sermons from message boards and scene reports, and we sic them on the youth
Yeah, we try out new testaments on the guys sitting next to us
In the bars with the bars on the windows, alright
And if you don't quit talking and get converted tonight
You gotta admit the band's pretty tight

There she's got legs and they ain't too proud to beg
Into something by the Dixie Dregs
And they faked their way through Fairytale of New York
When the band stopped playing we howled out for more

Hey Nelson Algren, Chicago seemed tired last night
They had cigarettes where there were supposed to be eyes
Hey William Butler Yeats, all the Irish seemed wired last night
They tried to separate our girls from our guys

They had cigarettes where there were supposed to be eyes