The Doors Follow

Well I'll tell you a story of whiskey and mystics and men
And about the believers and how the whole thing began
First there were women and children obeying the moon
Then daylight brought wisdom and fever and sickness too soon

You can try to remind me instead of the other you can
You can help to insure that we all insecure our command
If you don't give a listen, I won't try to tell your new hand
This is it, can't you see that we all have our ends in the band?

And if all of the teachers and preachers of wealth were arraigned
We could see quite a future for me in the literal sands

And if all of the people could claim to inspect such regret
Well, we'd have no forgiveness, forgetfulness, faithful remorse
So, I tell you, I tell you, I tell you we must send away
We must try to find a new answer instead of a way