| This is traditional misfiring at its finest
|
| There’s nobody left to fight for our side
|
| And all my enemies are at my back door
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| No, my friends are at my back door
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| I welcomed them in with open arms
|
| So they drew their guns from their belts and walked right in
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| They laid me by the fire to watch me dry my eyes out
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| Because we’re just soldiers looking for a war to fight
|
| And I saw a hunter crawling out in the distance
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| He’s tired, his legs are tied
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| He’s dehydrated, drowning in the well
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| Gasoline fields in my backyard
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| They’re cavernous, bridge-less and unbound
|
| Their ruinous remains will mark all our graves
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| I don’t have much to tell the travelers down the road
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| 'Cause they just stopped by looking for a place to rest
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| And they’ll disappear when morning comes
|
| Shadows on the landscape block the sun
|
| 'Cause this isn’t where they wanted to be found
|
| And I saw a hunter crawling out in the distance
|
| He’s tired, his legs are tied
|
| He’s dehydrated, drowning in the well
|
| Gasoline fields in my backyard
|
| They’re cavernous, bridge-less and unbound
|
| Their ruinous remains will mark all our graves
|
| Their ruinous remains will mark all our graves
|
| Their ruinous remains will mark all our graves |