I Don't Watch The News

When he comes back, I think I'll play it real cool
Say something like, "Hey, Jesus, I love what you've done with the place."
He'll roll his eyes the way that only he can
Say, "This is not the time or place for jokes.
People ask themselves what they think I'd do,[1]
what they think I'd drive to work. They don't ask themselves
What my job would be, who my boss would be, did I earn my raise this year?"
Then he'd look at me real serious and say,
"Just tell me how you make it through the day."
I'd say, "I fear no devil, praise no god,
and I don't watch the news[2] anymore."

Jesus stared at me, it looked like he was going to spit,
looked like he was going to swear at the sky
He collected himself, paid the bill and left a tip,
Left enough to make the waitress smile
He said, "Listen close, I'll tell you what you need to do"
And as he did, a train went rattling by[3][4]
I will never know exactly what he said,
I just try to do a decent thing or two each day

  1. Note that, when this was written, it was still clearly legal to ask yourself that question. As of 2014, it's slightly less of an open-and-shut case. ↩︎

  2. Only because "listen to NPR" wouldn't have sounded quite as good in that particular spot in the song. ↩︎

  3. The proximity of the old Old Town School of Folk Music building to the Armitage brown line stop in the 1990s made for some classic hijinx between Ralph Covert and his students. ↩︎

  4. Had I suspected that "having written a train song" is the litmus test for true American songwriters, I would not have waited this long into my repertoire. ↩︎

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