Oil turns to rainbows on rain-slick city streets,
Young paper boys and bourbon cabbies stand in sharp relief,
Salvation Army brass band strikes up by the bank,
That's now empty of all currency - who am I to thank'

Palm readers and politicians make promises galore,
Hollywood spreads her legs like a two-bit whore, offering numbness to the masses who fear the market crash,
Well, out there in the stable, something coming down fast.

Well, churches, they're empty, and the businessmen curse their luck,
There's a little bit of truth left out there; it may not be enough to save a world where everyone's demons are their best friends,
If you cannot cast them out, you learn to live with them.

Oil turns to rainbows - it's my last will and testament,
Been casting out my skeletons, scraping off the excrement,
Salvation Army brass band strikes up by the bank,
That's now empty of all currency - who am I to thank'

Baby,
Baby.