John Cale - Ship Of Fools

The Ship of Fools is coming in
Take me off I've got to eat
Same old stories same old thing
Letting out and pulling in

Mister, there's a caravan parked out back
Restless hoping for a Christian rider
The black book, a grappling hook
A hangman's noose on a burnt out tree
Guess we must be getting close to Tombstone
The last time we had eaten
Was when the flies were going for free
You could count the hardships by the open doors
But sandwiched in between
Were the fishermen who still
Wished they could sail from Tenessee to Arizona

So hold on, won't be long
The call is on the line
Hold on, Sister's gone
South to give the sign