Static Songtext
von Barkmarket

There′s big money in these fat black hands
If you know how to smell for it
You can drive off the nail in the sand
Breath death 'til your hands won′t stain
As it burns out your manifest grave
On these windfall dreams

Some old crank on your water they say
Tills his crop on your pay dirt and won't pay him
And begs to move for the next sun to return
While we calculate just how much book to make on his fate
And the graves won't tell
How he made this belt
From his red hide in a moment of pure self-help
Black and tan as every good boy said
As the proof of your mettle runs straight through that exit wound
That you left on this no-good land


I can′t stand all your wiles imprison me
Dark where lore of a glittering tree
Above the truckload of clay for the better life
Sacrificing your desire to rash up my heart
With a straight face
And a bootlace noose
For the price of these cinnamon dreams

I took part in your vacancy
Washed over my lips in your glorious bleed
And then I cut this token from the side of our wreck
And hallowed our monument they built
If I could cry I′d drown in lies
In the dead eye of hindsight
And I can raise my arms
And I can lift this tired form
I can't say why

Why you′re baiting me
Stop baiting me
With a break in your power
Just tempered for how I might choose to relieve
This fat sore need to be king
For a day
But for the right pay
To covet steel grey
And state-shaped hate
For all the vacant bodies burnt and unsealed


For nothing more than being all I wish I could wipe from this place
And I'm barely rolling in these rhymes
Dirt on dirt from my pockets to my mind
A battered bent tail of my spine
Like some half-spent slack-backed mule that I can′t ride
I don't want to be out at this time
I don′t want to see what that's left of me
If I could run I'd drop my gun
And set it to light my eyes

If I could raise my hands
If I could lift these tired pants
I′d rake out the crack in my mind, mind, mind
If I could run I′d drop my gun
Yeah, it's gone