Jesus on the Telephone

Let me out of this mental ward confines

So white and plain, free my mind

From prescriptions that you write

I'm not the same

Young kid with the see-through skin, all arteries and veins

Spun out in the family car, trying to make my way

Home

Are you ready to put me under

'Cause I'm ready to go back home

I don't care what the doctors told me

I spoke to Jesus on the telephone

He said, "Lace up your shoes and quit playing the blues"

I'm gonna take me to a better place

Where the sun always shines and the light in your eyes

Is always tended like a burning flame

Na-na, na-na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na-na-na

Na-na, na-na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na-na-na

Write me up on a list of who was cured

And what was slain

Like a glove with the blood of who you hurt

I'm thrown away because I'm-

Half gone, don't know what I'm on

My vision blurs and shakes

You don't need a PhD to be the one to break

Me

Are you ready to call my mother

And my father, my sister too, whoa

'Cause I'm going to higher places

And I'm so sorry I'm not taking you

So I'll lace up my shoes and quit playing the blues

I'm gonna take me to a better place

Where the sun always shines and the light in your eyes

Is always tended like a burning flame

Where the sun always shine and the bells never chine

And the undertaker stays away (stays away)

Na-na, na-na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na-na-na

Na-na, na-na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na-na-na