April 14th, Part I

When the iceberg hit
Oh, they must have known
God moves on the water
Like Casey Jones
So I walked downtown
On my telephone
And took a lazy turn
Through the redeye zone
It was a five-band bill
A two-dollar show
I saw the van out in front
From Idaho
And the girl passed out
In the backseat trash
There was no way they'd make
Even a half a tank of gas
They looked sick and stoned
And strangely dressed
No one showed
From the local press
But I watched 'em walk
Through the bottom land
And I wished I played
In a rock 'n' roll band
Hey, hey
It was the fourteenth day of April
Well they closed it down
With the sails in rags
And the swept up the fags
And the local rags
Threw the plastic cups
In the plastic bags
And the cooks cleaned the kitchen
With the staggers and the jags
Ruination day
And the sky was red
I went back to work
And back to bed
And the iceberg broke
And the Okies fled
And the Great Emancipator
Took a bullet in the back of the head...