A rose in my teeth or a blade in my hand
brown or white, to its better end
is there a way but to fall away
snout at the moon, I begin to pray:

Lord God, fit me
Lord God, fit me
Lord God, fit me
Make your move and beat me

Condescend on me, on my lecherous eyes
on my clumsy hands, my well-meant lies
no I won’t conk out, at least not now
It will pull me through though I don’t know how

Lord God, fit me…

Hot shot, corporately got
by the Joshua Tree he made the revolt
don’t ask me where I was when the Red Down rose
it’s a delicate thing, I am one of those…

I can do it as good, and for lower fee
after all, I am you and you are me
you can hang on my word when I dare say:
everybody’s gonna need me some day!
say

Lord God, fit me…

1999