| A          | A          ||

[Verse 1]
        A                         A D                          A
Well, today there's no salvation,     the band's packed up and gone,
A                  A                         E          E
  left me standin'   with a penny in my hand.
          A                        A         D                   A
There's a big crowd at the station   where a blind man sings his songs
A                E                   A             A7
  and he can see   what I can't understand.

[Chorus]
         D               D              D                A        A
It's the thirty-third of August and I'm finally touchin' down,
A                 A             E              A           A
  eight days from Sunday, Lord,   I'm Saturday-bound.

[Verse 2]
       A                             A D              A
Once I stumble through the darkness,     tumble to my knees,
A                   A                      E          E
  a thousand voices   screamin' through my brain.
A                           A7       D              A
  Woke up in the squad car,   busted down for vagrancy,
    A                A               E                A          A7
and outside my cell,   sure as hell,   it looked like rain.

[Chorus]
         D               D              D                A        A
It's the thirty-third of August and I'm finally touchin' down,
A                 A             E              A           A
  eight days from Sunday, Lord,   I'm Saturday-bound.

[Interlude]
| A          | A7         | D          | A          |
| A          | A          | E          | E          |
| A          | A7         | D          | A          |
| A          | E          | A          | A          |

[Verse 3]
      A                    A D                     A
Now I put my angry feelin'     under lock and chain,
A                   A                   E          E
  I hide my violent nature with a smile.
           A                           A7    D                   A
Though the demons dance and sing their songs   within my fevered brain,
A                   E                     A          A7
not all my God-like thoughts, Lord, are defiled.

[Chorus]
         D               D              D                A        A
It's the thirty-third of August and I'm finally touchin' down,
A                 A             E              A           A
  eight days from Sunday, Lord,   I'm Saturday-bound.

[Interlude]
| A          | A7         | D          | A          |
| A          | A          | E          | E          |
| A          | A7         | D          | A          |
| A          | E          | A          | A7         |

[End-Chorus]
         D               D              D                A        A
It's the thirty-third of August and I'm finally touchin' down,
A                 A             E              A           A E A
  eight days from Sunday, Lord,   I'm Saturday-bound.