The patron saint of lovesick blues
Or Magdalene of losers and fools
Your jukebox queen, she sits and drools
But blames you for not seeing her jewels

Self importance like a mad man
Like they're looking over, see where I am
My brains in the basement, won't go get it
My heart sleeps floors up room 107
I had enough

(I'm)
I'm checking out of Molly's motel
(I'm)

Her body bag sheets and playgrounds graveyards
Supposed comfort to me now pins me in the dark
Borne ignorance and pawns and suicide sweethearts
You better laugh at the joke or choke in the smoke
Sweet Joan of Arc

They call me miss Fortune
For my green eye and my rot soft heart
And I was raised on that blue, red, white religion
Where God is not but a suit and a firearm, babe

It's so hard, babe
It's all been so hard, babe
And I had enough

(I'm)
I'm checking out of Molly's motel
(I'm)
It's all been too much
(I'm)
I'll be leaving, I'm a-goin

Goodbye
Bye, bye
Bible blinds and long July's

Take my shame and dashboard saint
Bye, bye
Goodbye
(I'm)
(I'm)