The desert, they say, is better crossed
If the nomad knows his way;
Your mind, I’m told, is easily lost,
But who am I to say?

It’s written that the road is longer now
Than the one that Jesus walked;
I’ve read where Satan’s stronger now,
But who am I to talk?

You can’t believe the things you hear;
To each his private dread:
I’m looking for the Queen of Beers
To take her to my bed.

Queen of Beers
Magic tears
Foaming in your head;
Give me one more sip
And I could slip
Between the living and the dead.

The TV says that folks are worse
Than they ever were before;
And the earth is just a cosmic hearse
Driven by a *****.

The paper’s printing war and fear
Seems soon we’ll all be dead;
I’m searching for the Queen of Beers
To fetch her to my bed.

Queen of Beers
Golden tears
Running through my head;
Just one more sip
And I could slip
Between the living and the dead.

Now the homeless folks are crying
While the politicians steal;
And the animals are dying
And religion isn’t real.

The subfrastructure’s falling here
(Whatever the hell they said);
I’m still waiting for that Queen of Beers
To lie down in my bed.

Queen of Beers
Barley tears
Burning in my head;
I’ll have one more sip
And then I’ll slip
Between the living and the dead.