1. |
Thanksgiving
03:58
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the constable knows me better than my dad
fastest trial that I ever had
we burned the bridges to our grandma's houses
but we still wade across for holidays
I hope someday I get to hear my grandkids say
We'll call soon and thanksgiving's only 12 months away
I wanna be better than my heritage
try going places my name hasn't been
we'll send you postcards from the gates of hell
"the weather's great, the kids are doing swell"
I wonder what you wondered when you first saw me
we'll call soon and thank god thanksgiving's twelve months away
and a courtroom is a sheriff's breakfast nook
obey what your mother says or she'll tell your father
and he might come back tomorrow
so you listen in the kitchen for the handcuffs on his belt
Jingling, just to remind you; at least you've still got hands
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2. |
Ground 0.2
04:07
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Don't look up too long; it might fall on you
Pick up what's said and done; Ground0.2
A drinkin' man spends half his time gathering the pieces
The other half he spends drinking
Gone to find his lover in New Orleans and it would seem
She's at her parent's house, cell phone in hand, just waiting patiently
There's no one new around you and it would seem
your thumbs have come across all that there is to see
see you in an hour, maybe two, maybe three
but know he's comin' soon, so don't you move, you didn't in your dreams
Chase him to the next coast another city by the sea
where all the other girls are single file putting on their faces
some of us spend some of 5-9 working on our thesis
most of us spend most of 9-5 with our friends drinkin'
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3. |
Cotton
02:59
|
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take me to the water I want to be baptized
take me to the water I feel the need to forgive myself again
my mom got a second job
'cause the boss she had at home was a dick-head
'cause the kids she had at home were both dick-deads
all dickheads
My skin is the color of cotton
my kin made their money from cotton
if you'd forgotten; all your money's woven cotton
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4. |
GG Allin's Funeral
04:16
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gg allin's funeral and jesus' resurrection
mom scored some albuterol she's great at lung protection
i'll die by the time I'm your age
the kids are making meth out of the gifts they got for christmas
kids all sleep in mangers they gave up their beds for lent this year
they know who owns those damn beds anyway
they don't keep receipts for anything
Ink-on-paper-property the nausea increased
Needles in the street still shimmer holy ‘cause they’re free
We'll die by the time we get to one
one decade from now I'll be as old as my dad was
when my mom made good on their deal and gave his name to her first son
I've got nine cigarettes left until this morning's pack is done
Probly have less than eight by time the humans finish lunch
seven for the seven-five was never quite enough
to keep that six month southern summer lit
call "neighbor" if you don't want fifth hit
quarters at the grocery for forties for the fortunate
try to work three jobs at least the pressure's on a little bit
work to feed the wife and me look out for number one and shit
gg allin's funeral and hold the resurrection
sometime between now and then I might learn what to do with affection
inherently valueless though I'm made from the same shit as diamonds
if I'd been crucified once I would likely live out my second chance hiding
My parents left for the weekend
my brother's throwing a party
I won't invite ya to my party
You're not invited to my party
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5. |
Fists
03:02
|
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