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Three Fingers In
por
Nathaniel Rateliff
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Well it would take a mountain of men to move me And that'd be a long way from the way that you spoke In your head so clearly without break or breath Or words redefining I was stuck on my pride And the skin And the sinking it in And you told me "Wipe your brow, clean me off Give me time to figure it out." Some songs we could sing, and never mean it Some songs leave a ring And you hate the few who were bold Some burn up the sleeve And drive too far to remember Well I wasn't lost, I was here I was three fingers in I was the junkyard, and the bumper For the few feeling left I was the cold nail, and the ice On the sheets of the trenched and the soaking wet Well it'd be the bit and the reins That broke all the teeth in the mouth And it'd be the whip, on the foreskin For the few that had some left To spare Some songs we could sing, and never mean it Some songs leave a ring And you hate the few who were bold Some burn up the sleeve And drive too far to remember
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