On the morning news that brought me 'round
They put the Oklahoma bomber down
He might serve in heaven, might burn in hell
But he's no more wishes at the wishing well
I should feel compassion, I know I should
I don't know if his dying does any good
But he was good as gone when the building fell
Ah, when they ran out of wishes at the wishing well
Ah, lying on his back, eyes open wide
And the prick of the needle and the silent slide
And the Press lined up, with their stories to tell
How there's no more wishes at the wishing well
Today I rattled around this town
Hands in my pockets, eyes cast down
And the air as still as the steeple bell
It was dry as a bone at the wishing well
The thunderheads tower over the town
I'll be warm and dry, when the sky falls down
And we might get lucky, but you never can tell
It was dry as a bone at the wishing well
Ah, lying on his back, eyes open wide
And the prick of the needle and the silent slide
And the Press lined up, with their stories to tell
How there's no more wishes at the wishing well
On the morning news that brought me 'round
They put the Oklahoma bomber down