There's someone sneaking in my bed,
I hope its the devil in a headdress.
But I know he don't got his hold on you.
There's someone sneaking in my bed,
I hope it's an angel with a letter.
But I know she don't have nothing to say.
It was written in the scriptures,
that I had seen you in the pictures.
How could you say you forgot about me?
You gotta eat child,
you gotta sleep child,
you gotta breathe child
to let your demons out.
You gotta run child,
you gotta crawl child,
you got it all child
so let your feelings out.
It's all that I know and it's all that I'll ever know.
But who's gonna search my soul.
If the god-head is dead, I'll be staying in bed.
'Cause then who could we count on instead?
You can lay down the stones
through the bricks of my bones.
And throw me down holes
that my brain can't control.
And tell me I'm not alone when I'm alone.
I'm at the bottom of the ladder and I need it so badly.
It's back to being an orphan again.
Just when I thought that I had seen the end,
you come sneaking around my house
and breathing down my neck.
He said, "I know what it's like in the end."
I learned to read and write well again.
But I knew it was just part of the plan.
You come sneaking around my house
and breathing down my neck.
Every little mention of your name,
brings tears to my face.
Why'd you make my mind going playing tricks like this?
I lose it still.
But I found a place
to make sense of everything.
It turns out this space
can't be all that we see.
How long must I climb?
'Cause inside I slide.
It warms these bones to know that I try.
Lord, I try.
Molly be damned smote Jimmy the Harp
With a horrid little pistol and a lariat
She's goin to the bottom
And she's goin down the drain
Said she wasn't big enough to carry it
Choppity chop goes the axe in the woods
You gotta meet me by the fall down tree
Shovel of dirt upon a coffin lid
And I know they'll come lookin for me boys
And I know they'll come a-lookin for me
Got to get behind the Mule
In the morning and plow
Got to get behind the Mule
In the morning and plow
Got to get behind the Mule
In the morning and plow
Got to get behind the Mule
In the morning and plow
Big Jack Earl was 8'1
He stood in the road and he cried
He couldn't make her love him
Couldn't make her stay
But tell the good Lord that he tried
Dusty trail from Atchison to Placerville
On the wreck of the Weaverville stage
Beaula fired on Beatty for a lemonade
I was stirring my brandy with a nail boys
Stirring my brandy with a nail
Well the rampaging sons of the widow James
Jack the cutter and the pock marked kid
Had to stand naked at the bottom
Of the cross
And tell the good lord what they did
Tell the good lord what they did
Making shapes in my head.
I'm tracing outlines of the prophets
and celebrities I thought to be dead.
You command the best from me.
But the taste of mothers blood
don't got that kick I always thought it should be.
If you're all out of excuses you're breaking the law.
It's dumb you have excuses at all.
I'm tracing frames from beneath my bed.
'Cause I have to hide from something,
so I'm hiding from those books that I've read.
Not all your actions
have come from reactions I saw.
I know I can only run for so long.
I'm hungry but the streets are bare.
We've been hiding from the ghosts
that we thought would be there.
In the cities, in the woods alone.
We've been laughing 'cause we had it all along.
I'm just sad 'cause I thought I had won.
It's hard to laugh at the damage I've done.
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