[Verse 1]
Taco, Buffalo, Birddog and Jesus
Are taking the oddball to see
How they can casually crop a revival
The merriest thing we'd agree
They can drive an old pickup from Plymouth
Straight through them holes in your teeth
As they whistle, the spirits above them
Disturb us in sewers beneath

[Verse 2]
Irrepressable flockings of peoples
Who thinks that the others he know
That the ones who erect their own steeple
Live in a black smoking hole

[Chorus]
Nobody opens his eyes
It's hard to look up in the sun
And so, they shut them and run

[Solo]

[Verse 3]
And the progress is who I am, boy
Something to carry us along
Makes a hell of a breakfast on Sunday
It's based on the vultures of 'Nam
[Chorus]
Nobody opens his eyes
It's hard to look up in the sun
And so, they shut them and run

[Break]
Beyond the bars and churches of Midwestern factory towns, evil minds click consistently. Some of us think it odd that a larger percentage of bona fide miracles are witnessed in these areas. But I've seen Taco take a big long drag off his self-whittled pipe, sit back and laugh and in ten minutes the rednecks are hugging and buying each other beers again. And then Jesus blows the clouds away with one puff, falls back into his cage, and goes to sleep

[Verse 1]
Taco, Buffalo, Birddog and Jesus
Are taking the oddball to see
How they can casually crop a revival
The merriest thing we'd agree

[Chorus]
Nobody opens his eyes
It's hard to look up in the sun
And so, they shut them and run