| Buffet them winds like a road train gone by
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| Suffer these sins like the drink’s going dry
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| Figure this dirt’s gonna wash out my jeans
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| 'Cause tomorrow, I’m cleaning these sleeves
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| I am a contradictory man
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| I want my silence, but I want my band
|
| I have to force what I know to be right
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| So I’m keeping you clear from my sight
|
| Rinsing my hands in this slow-moving river
|
| Scrubbing my soul of the stories you stole
|
| Wiping up guilt like it’s mud that I trod
|
| Come on, heal me of what I have got
|
| Prancing 'round pauses like they must be in time
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| Hiding among chords as if they could rhyme
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| I see the diva in all this discord
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| Oh, it’s me I have got to restore
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| Steady on judgement and study that hand
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| Ready my knife, and ready my man
|
| If I have chosen to be less than I had hoped
|
| Well, the saving is all that I wrote
|
| Rinsing my hands in this slow-moving river
|
| Scrubbing my soul of the stories you stole
|
| Wiping up guilt like it’s mud that I trod
|
| Come on, heal me of what I have got
|
| Dust up these boots till the leather wears thin
|
| Wear in my hat, and wear in my grin
|
| Keep up the image, so to keep out this girl
|
| Oh, my ego’s about to unfurl
|
| Rinsing my hands in this slow-moving river
|
| Scrubbing my soul of the stories you stole
|
| Wiping up guilt like it’s mud that I trod
|
| Come on, heal me of what I have got
|
| Come on, heal me of what I have got
|
| Oh, please heal me of what I have got… |