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My father he rides with your sheriffs |
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And I know he would never mean harm |
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But to see both sides of a quarrel |
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Is to judge without hate or alarm |
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Oh, oh, helpless and slow |
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And you don't have anywhere to go |
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You take away homes from the homeless |
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And leave them to die in the cold |
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The gypsy who begs for your presents |
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He will laugh in your face when you're old |
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Oh, oh, helpless and slow |
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And you don't have anywhere to go |
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Well one man he drinks up his whiskey |
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Another he drinks up his wine |
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And they'll drink 'till their eyes are red with hate |
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For those of a different kind |
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Oh, oh, helpless and slow |
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And you don't have anywhere to go |
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When the rivers run thicker than trouble |
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I'll be there at your side in the flood |
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T'was all I could do to keep myself |
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From taking revenge on your blood |
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Oh, oh, helpless and slow |
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And you don't have anywhere to go |
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Oh, oh, helpless and slow |
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And you don't have anywhere to go |
