Static

Lyrics for Static

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