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I wrote this.
everyone comes down from the park its true
i think i’ll just take the truck for a drive today
and everytime i pass i’ll see the waste X2
We’ll go to the lake take the firebreak through
Brown house on the hill with the back pond
float around in the sun till the summer’s gone
And i’ve been running around this town
the axe left the satchel, and i buried it in the ground
and you don’t know what you’ve been told,
and I think my mind’s a chamber
And I’ve been sitting here on my own
talking shit about the town from which I’ve grown
And I miss church and i miss God
and i miss the place where i belong.
Sometimes an axe in a block seems
more like home then tare from a cup please
the same old feeling you get when find your
old boots on the floor where the kids ran
I used to sit the table looking at my dads hands
If i could ever work that hard, i’d be a man