Met a preacher at a truck stop, Three a.m. and raining frogs, He wore a snakeskin Sunday jacket And kept his Bible full of cogs. Said, “Son, I got a proposition, Clean title, barely used... One slightly haunted lunar body, Previous owner: Zeus.” I said, “Reverend, I’m a working man, I got payments on my shoes.” He said, “Boy, you ain't been living Till you owe somebody a moon.” The Reverend sold me a moon! Cheap! No atmosphere included! The Reverend sold me a moon! Hell! I should've known that thing was used. Now the government wants taxes, And the Devil wants his due... I got ninety-nine problems, brother, And eighty-seven are the moon. Tuesday came with two inspectors, Black suits and matching hats, One was six-foot-seven, The other one was clearly rats. They said, “Sir, your moon's in violation, Section twelve, paragraph nine.” I said, “Gentlemen, that's impossible... The damn thing ain't even mine!” Then the moon began to whistle. The rats began to pray. The taller man removed his glasses And his eyeballs flew away. Now listen... Never buy astronomy From a man with alligator shoes. Never trust theology That comes with monthly dues. And if a burning wheel descends And asks you for your name... Tell it: “Buddy, I rent.” The Reverend sold me a moon! Cheap! No atmosphere included! The Reverend sold me a moon! Lord! The warranty's disputed! Now the ocean's in my driveway, There's a crater in the loo... I got ninety-nine problems, brother, AND THEY ALL GOT TIDES!
