Jesus had promised me a wedding ring since the birth of time
wrecklace and worried we drove across the border like two sons of bitches
fumed and furious, black glasses and blue jean coats, the desserts mood swings had treated us to some cool wind breeze
cadillacs crossing the state line, all we could hope for is that this '68 chev wouldn't break down on us traveling tricksters
heck Jesus couldn't afford no goddamn wedding band, how would he get em repairs done
fumed and furious, we drove for hours, turned left at the state church chapel