# #From: Robert Sin # # # I was flabbergasted by the headlines People in glasshouses throwing stones Gaping wounds that will never heal Now they're moaning like a dog in a manger It's when that rough god goes riding And then the rough god goes gliding There'll be nobody hiding When that rough god comes riding on in And it's a matter of survival When you're born with your back against the wall Won't somebody hand me a bible Won't you give me that number to call When that rough god goed ri (chordiearchive.chordie.com)