I could not work
|
So I threw a bottle into the woods
|
And then I felt bad
|
For the doe paw
|
And the rabbit paw
|
So I went looking for the pieces
|
Of the bottle that I threw
|
Because I couldn¡¯t work
|
|
I went deep
|
Further than i could throw
|
And i came upon an old abandoned well
|
All boarded over
|
With a drip hanging from the bucket still
|
|
Well I watched that drip but it would not drop
|
I watched that drip but it would not drop
|
I knew what I had to do
|
Had to pull those boards off the well
|
|
When I got the boards off
|
I stared into the black black black
|
And you know I had to yell
|
Just to get my voice back
|
|
I guess everybody has their own thing
|
That they yell into a well
|
|
I gave it a coupla hoots
|
A hello
|
And a fuck all y¡¯all
|
|
I guess everybody has their own thing
|
That they yell into a well
|
|
And as I stood like that
|
Staring into the black black black
|
I felt a cool wet kiss
|
On the back of my neck
|
|
Dang
|
|
I knew if I stood up
|
The drip would roll down my back
|
Into no man¡¯s land
|
|
So I stayed like that
|
Staring into the black black black
|
|
Well they say black is all colours at once
|
So I gave it my red rage my yellow streak
|
The greenest parts of me
|
And my blues I knew just what I had to do
|
|
I had to turn around and go back
|
And let that drip roll down my back
|
And I felt so bad about that
|
|
But wouldn¡¯t you know
|
When I turned to go
|
Another drip was forming
|
On the bottom of the bucket
|
And I felt so good about that
|
|
-----------------
|
Well
|
| Smog |
