Tommy was a preacher¡¯s son
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Now he's running through the jungle "yes sir!"
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Fingers cold and fire
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When you get so tired and we're so tired
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Lazing back in this desert
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Waitin¡¯ for that sunny day
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Tommy was a preacher¡¯s son
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Now he's running through the streets sellin¡¯ up that cocaine
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Those fires will get ya
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When you get too tired and we're so tired
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Eyes blister beaded fortress rolling fevered freight trains in
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Well I met three men with friends in office
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Smooth dark skin and ivory teeth smiles
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Our boots come alive in this mud and this shit
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"Life is hard to fill with teeth that bite and eat up our fears"
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Through August fall of ¡®69
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Jesus had birthed him
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He spoke in guns through crippled sheets
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For Jesus had birthed him
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Sugar cubes fingernails worming snakes that built the fire
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Tommy
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| Portugal. The Man |
