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Six o'clock on a Saturday.
I'm moving up and away from here.
Nothing seems to I my way so I'm out I'm moving on.
That lady down in the capital,
she's learning figures and number signs
And left me flippin birds and cursing up north where I'm bound
To lose my mind.

But I can smell the rain.
Will the storm blow me away?
Will it drive me to my end?
I can feel it coming in.

You're tiny, wound up and beautiful.
So many things that I wanna do.
The only things that a poor boy needs is a jar, a girl and time.
But lately my time is running short
And there ain't no girls within miles from here
And now my jar's a half hour empty I'm out to fetch me more.

I love the way that we hope for better days.
When the storm come to an end.

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