The Postman (David Baerwald)

It’s only the postman, there’s no need to be alarmed
He’s just delivering the post ma’am, he don’t mean me any harm
And understand come rain and snow, he is always on the go
Even death can never slow the postman . . .
And hurricane winds and high tides, he is always by my side
I have never learned to hide from the postman
I sing my song, I sing my song, I sing my brave little song
I sing my song to the postman, to the postman . . .
Tuxedos and guns, sir --- become the symbols of a time
And rivers of blood, sir --- in a sunny foreign clime
We keep it with lies and lies, we embrace what we despise
Servants in the rise of the postman . . .
And love and hate are old-fashioned and obsolete
Mere voices in the street to the postman . . .
I sing my song, I sing my brave little song
I sing my song to the postman, to the postman . . .

© 1992 Zen of Iniquity Music (ASCAP)