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)