Salvation — Rancid

There's a neighborhood called Blackhawk Where all the rich people hide I was down on my luck workin' for the Salvation Army The shelter is where I reside Every day we drive in to Blackhawk & we pick up the offerings microwave ovens refridgerators for the suffering I can't believe these people live like kings hidden estates and diamond rings I'm a rat on a mission I'm in your front yard under suspicion Come on baby won't you show me what you got I want your salvation