It's not a blue van that I drive,
Coast to coast, but still alive,
People cheer when I arrive,
It's not a blue van that I drive.

It's not a cold room where I sleep,
Ten feet wide, eleven feet deep,
Pray the Lord my soul to keep,
It's not a cold room where I sleep.

It's not a bright wig on his head,
"Little devil," one man said,
Just because his hair is red,
It's not a bright wig on his head.

It's not a lost world where I play
Spins around once everyday,
Children wonder, blind men sway,
It's not a lost world where I play.

It's not a black heart where I feel,
Wicked schemes I may conceal,
Washed in blood each time I kneel,
It's not a black heart where I feel.