Winding down a well penned road, written like red leaves and hickory smoke
Wandering down another limestone dust dirt nothing, little slice of heaven in the sun
Creeks rolling, eyes wide on Folgers and a spent cigarette, walking a mile for the next pack
Pack on your back, climbing up crevice and crack, quiet nights with thunder and fire
Fire and rain, eyes in pain, wipe away these tears from mine, I already ran out of all my time
This Crown goes down nice, makes my feet dance drunk, makes the moths come circle
That stuff makes it worse in the morning, but **** the morning is worse anyway
That **** makes me sick, but I **** it down like a horsefly ***** up blood, slapped silly
Third degree sideways emotions, a burning train wreck of bauxite and broken dreams