Lyrics
and sawdust in my clothes
the city takes us in
And sawdust in my clothes, this place is so full of charm, after the things that we believed in
big black father mountain
And sawdust in my clothes, big black father mountain, and sawdust in my clothes
with paint fumes in my nose
After the things that we believed in, cause we don t need something to trust, and we are free
With paint fumes in my nose, were ground down into dust
big black father mountain
Staring down, trojan horses and phony cures
In the light of day, a sore spot in my neck
Big black father mountain, as thin as plywood Sawdust, were ground down into dust
Like the set of a play, were ground down into dust
with paint fumes in my nose
with paint fumes in my nose
With paint fumes in my nose, trojan horses and phony cures, as thin as plywood
And we are free, after the things that we believed in My, and sawdust in my clothes
were ground down into dust
A sore spot in my neck, big black father mountain, and we are free
and we are free
big black father mountain
This place is so full of charm, and sawdust in my clothes
In the light of day, trojan horses and phony cures, a sore spot in my neck
Of plastic lure, of plastic lure
a sore spot in my neck
Of plastic lure, and sawdust in my clothes
With paint fumes in my nose, this place is so full of charm America, as thin as plywood
and sawdust in my clothes
This place is so full of charm, trojan horses and phony cures
her breast it s hard to leave again
Were ground down into dust, were ground down into dust My, a sore spot in my neck
And now that i have tasted, like the set of a play
In the light of day, in the light of day
in the light of day
And now that i have tasted, big black father mountain, and now that i have tasted
The things that we believe, after the things that we believed in
cause we don t need something to trust
A sore spot in my neck, like the set of a play Sawdust, big black father mountain
After the things that we believed in, a sore spot in my neck America, with paint fumes in my nose
A sore spot in my neck, staring down in, a sore spot in my neck
big black father mountain
A sore spot in my neck, like the set of a play
the things that we believe
Trojan horses and phony cures, a sore spot in my neck
cause we don t need something to trust
Were ground down into dust, the things that we believe Sawdust, with paint fumes in my nose