Letras
Look outside, the sky is falling
Preacher Joe must be on his way
The raven's gone the rooster's calling
But Joe was king today
He was kicked to the curb
Holy Commotion
But he finally had something to say
Preach it Joe
Joe was a buckshot preacher with the gift of gab
With curly blonde hair and green eyes
Hymnals and hymens, neither stood a chance
He was shooting from the hips, for Christ
His gospel might not get you into heaven
But it'll sure get you through the night
Hey Hey, Preacher Joe
They'll hunt you down for sure
Hey Hey, Preacher Joe
Now look it up, Joe would say
Here's what the Good Book's got for you
You've got to spend your time down on your knees
Come with me, I'll show you whatcha gotta do
All the church ladies were faithful disciples
If only the bishop knew
Joe kept his Bible in between his legs
He had a new scripture reader every night
They'd be begging for a taste of his Holy Commotion
In return for donations, it's only right
It was all fun and games and dollar bills
Till they caught him with the organist's wife
Now dead men keep tracking poor old Joe
They're trying to keep him in their sights
They're counting his sins two by two
On their barbed wire abacus at night
He's got a Molotov cocktail in his kitchen sink
But he's still bathing in Turkish delight
Hey Hey, Preacher Joe
They'll hunt you down for sure
Hey Hey, Preacher Joe
They finally caught up with Joe outside of town
And stuck a couple nails in his wrists
They beat that pretty blonde face to a bloody pulp
But Joe knew the risks
There might be a stranger way to make a couple of bucks
But none quite as fun as this
Now you'll find Joe out walking the streets
There's still a little light in his eyes
He's some kind of Moses in mohair with tin-foil shoes