I've been staying up late, cleaning out my pockets.
Far from the salt mines with a tight jawbone.
Getting in my last licks. Rock-ribbed and ready.
Outside it's raining pitchforks and I got my best suit on.
Blue sun don't shine anymore.
Not on this door.
I been greasing each wheel. Taking out my garbage.
I hung up on my hang-ups years ago.
Come lightning, come snow. Come hell or high water.
I won't knuckle under, I won't fade to black.
Blue sun don't shine anymore.
Not on this door.