The gravel galavants on the verdict
|
Of the swine that was fed human remains
|
It was a murder's victims
|
somewhere north of the canadian border
|
|
They ended up in your lunch break
|
In which you may want to hold your breath
|
'Til the dream sequence is for this one
|
New rural ruins or street fed a postmodern pigeons
|
|
These pigs were fed
|
These pigs were ready to be sold
|
These pigs were fed
|
These pigs were ready to be sold
|
|
Once had but now widowed
|
His companion had a chance to
|
Pop one out before her body gave in
|
A bouncing baby gal, beautiful in posture
|
|
She grew up with the cows 'til the cows left town
|
Daddy brought home the bacon
|
The bacon was in the backyard, baby
|
Daddy left the ranch
|
|
'Cause daddy had a sharp hand, a sharp hand
|
Through fingers cracked from stress and cold
|
Daddy fed the herd grain
|
Then drank as much of the same
|
|
These pigs were fed
|
These pigs were ready to be sold
|
These pigs were fed
|
These pigs were ready to be sold
|
|
Take your pigs hoof and follow it to the city
|
Take this chance and go to the city
|
|
Daddy's baby girl
|
Daddy's little wanderer
|
|
Let's go out and get jobs
|
Let's go out and be all grown up
|
|
The city is hiding underneath your bed
|
The monster in your closet is eight weeks away
|
You've got to saddle up now
|
Daddy's baby girl is all grown up
|
|
But you will not be there
|
when she coughs up your family line
|
You will be the furthest thing from her mind
|
A grey ghost, a black cowboy will by the last reflection
|
|
I will not be there, not yet
|
I will not be there, not yet
|
I will not be there, not yet
|
I will not be there, not yet
|
|
I will not be there, not yet
|
I will not be there, not yet
|
I will not be there, not yet
|
I will not be there, not yet
|
|
I will not be there, not yet
|
I will not be there, not yet
|
I will not be there, not yet
|
I will not be there, not yet
|
|
I'm running out of time
|
I'm sorry I forgot
|
It's not my fault
|
Greetings from the great north woods
|
|
-----------------
|
Greetings From The Great North Woods
|
| These Arms Are Snakes |
