Been to 49 states, been to five countries
Every where I go trouble sure follows me
Running from my problems from place to place
My police record's longer than the Natchez trace
Everyone keeps asking, "why can't you get along?"
I'm all right, the world's just wrong
Must have been a curse from the voodoo Priest
I've been checking my scalp for the Mark of The Beast
Could have been that I turned over a shaker of salt
Only thing for sure is it ain't my fault
Everyone keeps asking, "why can't you get along?"
I'm all right, the world's just wrong