| It’s harder now, the work is done
|
| And we’re nowhere now.
|
| Old bones are wearing you down
|
| Old dreams push you around.
|
| Maybe I am stubborn now,
|
| Maybe I can’t see
|
| But Jesus don’t talk to me,
|
| I never did leave!
|
| Leave!
|
| Do you need to keep pushing on,
|
| Cause this place, this place is like a funeral.
|
| I couldn’t help thinking on the talk I heard on the radio
|
| If they gonna keep put down
|
| Someday, maybe you should let it go.
|
| I don’t mind telling you so, if it is
|
| Something to hold on to.
|
| You follow the white dead trail,
|
| Found the hunter’s trap,
|
| Made out steel and wire
|
| But he gripped them round.
|
| I run my hands across your jaws, your teeth, your tongue your brow
|
| The blood is spreading to your brain
|
| We’ve got to get it out somehow, somehow!
|
| Do you need to keep pushing on,
|
| Cause this place, this place is like a funeral.
|
| I couldn’t help thinking on the talk I heard on the radio
|
| If they gonna keep put down
|
| Someday, maybe you should let it go.
|
| I don’t mind telling you so, if it is
|
| Something to hold on to,
|
| Something to hold on to.
|
| A pink moonshine
|
| Lighting your shadow.
|
| A witness to what came before
|
| A witness to what came before!
|
| Do you need to keep pushing on,
|
| Cause this place, this place is like a funeral.
|
| I couldn’t help thinking on the talk I heard on the radio
|
| If they gonna keep put down
|
| Someday, maybe you should let it go.
|
| I don’t mind telling you so, if it is
|
| Something to hold on to,
|
| Something to hold on to. |