They Sure Keep You Busy in Hell

woke up this morning from a deep deep sleep
for twenty years I slumbered in a pit so deep
that I don't remember all the details well
they sure keep you busy in hell

the phone's broken and the pigeon's dead
still voices from a recent past
they haunt me in my bed
like some eardrum splitting whispers
from a Bates motel
they sure keep you busy in hell

now I'm heading for a snow storm with my desert heart
saddle up the horses cause the car won't start
I counted my garden by the flowers
never by the leaves that fell
they sure keep you busy in hell
all the goodbye's and "I'm sorry"s
all the "time will tell"s
ain't got nothing to show for
aint't got nothing to sell
but a broken dream
and a curtain that fell
they sure keep you busy in hell

sterilized confessions and a Cuban smoke
curfew sharks and a whorehouse joke
and a strange pair of earphones in a wishing well
they sure keep you busy in hell

so it's goodbye now
or maybe farewell
or I'll see you later