Clean Up Your Own Backyard

Lyrics

Back porch preacher preaching at me  
Acting like he wrote the golden rules  
Shaking his fist and speeching at me  
Shouting from his soap box like a fool  
Come Sunday morning he's lying in bed  
With his eye all red, with the wine in his head  
Wishing he was dead when he oughta be  
Heading for Sunday school  
Clean up your own backyard  
Oh don't you hand me none of your lines  
Clean up your own backyard  
You tend to your business, I'll tend to mine  
Drugstore cowboy criticizing  
Acting like he's better than you and me  
Standing on the sidewalk supervising  
Telling everybody how they ought to be  
Come closing time 'most every night  
He locks up tight and out go the lights  
And he ducks out of sight and he cheats on his wife  
With his employee  
Clean up your own backyard  
Oh don't you hand me none of your lines  
Clean up your own backyard  
You tend to your business, I'll tend to mine  
Armchair quarterback's always moanin'  
Second guessing people all day long  
Pushing, fooling and hanging on in  
Always messing where they don't belong  
When you get right down to the nitty-gritty  
Isn't it a pity that in this big city  
Not a one a'little bitty man'll admit  
He could have been a little bit wrong  
Clean up your own backyard  
Oh don't you hand me, don't you hand me none of your lines  
Clean up your own backyard  
You tend to your business, I'll tend to mine  
Clean up your own backyard  
You tend to your business, I'll tend to mine