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God Bless The Absentee « See All Songs

Lord, I am a working man
And music is my trade
I’m traveling with this five piece band
I play the ace of spades
I have a wife and family, but they don’t see much of me
God bless the absentee

Lord, I am a surgeon
And music is my knife
It cuts away my sorrow
And purifies my life
But if I could release my heart
From veins and arteries
I’d say, God bless the absentee

I miss my woman so
I miss my bed
I miss those soft places
I used to lay my head
My son don’t need me yet
His bones are soft
He flies a silver airplane
He wears a golden cross
God bless the absentee

Lord, this country’s changed so fast
The future is the present
The present’s in the past
The highways are in litigation
The airports disagree
God bless the absentee
God bless the absentee

© 1978 Words and Music by Paul Simon