You can take my recordsnI don't need them any morenAnd there's a little bit of moneynIn the desk, inside a drawernTake my little bit of fan mailnAnd burn it when I'm gonenWith all the pictures of the pretty girlsnWith no clothes onnnAnd if I ever had a savior,nI never knew his namen'Cause it was just last summernWell nothin's been the samenComing out of the sun for a whilennUp the block from OrangenNear the dollar store downtownnThere's a place of refuge among the unemployed clownsnI know it well 'cause I've been there some summersnWith all the pretty girlsnWho want me to kill their fathersnnAnd if I ever heard a church bell,nI never knew the timenSo set your clock back an hournOr else you'll fall behindnMomma, can I come in from the rain?nI got a little bit of something to ease your painnnJust for all the days you make me waitnThe anxiety for me that even liquor can't alleviatenAnd the pageants are desertednAnd the carnival's closed downnThus the loneliness of an unemployed clownnnAnd if I ever heard a church bellnAlways heard it latenYou'd better drink the blood of JesusnOr else they'll lock the gatenMomma, can I come in from the storm?nYou'll be waitin' alone at your back doornMomma, don't give up your little boy