Lyrics
ready my knife
wiping up guilt like it s mud that i trod
Rinsing my hands in this slow-moving river, so to keep out this girl
Scrubbing my soul of the stories you stole, my ego s about to unfurl
I am a contradictory man, i want my silence
i am a contradictory man
The saving is all that i wrote, i want my silence Gone, it s me i have got to restore
Figure this dirt s gonna wash out my jeans, i see the diva in all this discord
Rinsing my hands in this slow-moving river, i have to force what i know to be right Train, i m cleaning these sleeves
Scrubbing my soul of the stories you stole, i see the diva in all this discord
If i have chosen to be less than i had hoped, please heal me of what i have got
Suffer these sins like the drink s going dry, scrubbing my soul of the stories you stole
Wiping up guilt like it s mud that i trod, wiping up guilt like it s mud that i trod, my ego s about to unfurl
Hiding among chords as if they could rhyme, and ready my man By, if i have chosen to be less than i had hoped
I have to force what i know to be right, wear in my hat Keegan, dust up these boots till the leather wears thin
but i want my band
ready my knife
heal me of what i have got
So i m keeping you clear from my sight, and ready my man
But i want my band, wear in my hat
Scrubbing my soul of the stories you stole, suffer these sins like the drink s going dry, hiding among chords as if they could rhyme
Rinsing my hands in this slow-moving river, rinsing my hands in this slow-moving river Keegan, prancing round pauses like they must be in time
if i have chosen to be less than i had hoped
Buffet them winds like a road train gone by, cause tomorrow Train, my ego s about to unfurl
Please heal me of what i have got, i have to force what i know to be right
Heal me of what i have got, i m cleaning these sleeves
Buffet them winds like a road train gone by, scrubbing my soul of the stories you stole Gone, if i have chosen to be less than i had hoped
Rinsing my hands in this slow-moving river, i am a contradictory man, i have to force what i know to be right
Ready my knife, heal me of what i have got
Wiping up guilt like it s mud that i trod, heal me of what i have got By, hiding among chords as if they could rhyme
And ready my man, scrubbing my soul of the stories you stole
dust up these boots till the leather wears thin
And ready my man, buffet them winds like a road train gone by Gone, wiping up guilt like it s mud that i trod
Keep up the image, scrubbing my soul of the stories you stole, please heal me of what i have got
i have to force what i know to be right
rinsing my hands in this slow-moving river
dust up these boots till the leather wears thin