The Last Great Audit Lyrics - El Astronauta - Quaker City Nighthawks

Well here comes Johnny talking bout using his wits 

While the rest try to find out just who wrote all of his hits 

And you can't blame a man that securely sits 

In a hole that you made just for him 

Why not take him, shake him til he throws fits 

Til he claws out his eyes and finally has to admit 

That nothing is sacred until it becomes print 

In his old man's morning news 

Behind those pages rages words of a man 

Trying to explain to his son who just can't understand 

Why he'd rather sit down than make a stand 

In an old worn out dusty pew 

An on this Moses wrote us of a plan 

Except he won't tell us why 

Just what and what we can't 

And how we'll never walk through the gates of his promised land 

Til we shake off our bloody ancestors blues