Trash Can Sinatras - Who's He

Little bohemian lost his sheep and I know where to find them
Just meet me at the end of my tether and there they are
It's the same old story in a blaze of glory
We can change this town this friday night, but in a glaze of bleary, they drop like, drop like, drop like flies
You wrote about your heroes and it read like a 'who's who?'
You wrote about your life and it read like a 'who's he?'

So fall in, fall about, your country needs you now
Gather your legs and sup up your dregs
Carry the crusade up to the home strait and the crooked mile back to your wife
She's in bed, she sleeps late, she don't fret or worry cuz it won't be very long 'til cliche Guevara's home

When the manifesto is a schoolboy thesis, when the man in charge is like a greasy Jesus
It's taking on epic proportions before my weary eyes
Turning the old town into a backdrop
Sssh it's so quiet, you could hear a name drop

So fall in, fall about, your country needs you now
Gather your legs and sup up your dregs
Carry the crusade up to the home strait and the crooked mile back to your wife
She's in bed, she sleeps late, she don't fret or worry cuz it won't be very long 'til cliche Guevara's home

Love and hate are written all over your fist
So fall in, fall about, your country needs you now
Gather your legs and sup up your dregs
Carry the crusade up to the home strait and the crooked mile back to your wife
She's in bed, she sleeps late, she don't fret or worry cuz it won't be very long 'til cliche Guevara's home
'Til cliche Guevara's home
'Til cliche Guevara's home