The Count of Pennsylvania never left the Commonwealth he loiters in the alley like a shadow of his former self
cast against the brick and mortar, smoke, and pipes, and stacks
one more for the list-makers, a statisticians artifact a victim of amphetamines, of cogs, and things that let off steam of markets, and of cold machines, that left him in-between
with customers and soldiers to divide

But its rising like a high tide,
stretching out so far and wide
the line is long but what a ride!
get in on the landslide

The Count of Pennsylvania traded in his overcoat heavens on the avenue inside a flask of antidote to a cankered constitution, pettiness, and bile
better never give a shityoull sleep it off, it might take a while
but rolling up from underneath through amber waves of corn and wheat
and cracks appearing in the street and in everyone you meet
think about it baby, look outside

cause its rising up, a high tide
stretching out so far and wide
the line is long but what a ride
get in on the landslide

The Count of Pennsylvania takes a look around the room you get whos in the neighborhood, youve talked this over, I presume a mob is a democracy that buys a rope and picks a tree and clamors with a clamory and thinks that makes them free forgive them, father, for they dont have a clue

But theyre rising up, a high tide
stretching out so far and wide
the line is long but what a ride
get in on the landslide Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind