My heart stopped pumpin', but my blood is still alive.
The rain hits the ground, and the trees, they dry it up.
My eyes wake up, but my brain is sleepin' fine.
One more thing for you, and I to do before we shut our eyes.
You blame me, and i'll blame you, and we're both right.
Cuttin' cat faces in the pines.
They say his teeth are wood, and they want my pictures of him.
The rain hits the ground, and the trees, they dry it up.
We're wood screws, all of our lives. (x3)
The rain hits the ground, and the trees, they dry it up.
My chain hits the wood and the wood it turns to dust.
I picture you as if you were a pine.
My heart's stopped pumpin', but my blood is still alive.
We're wood screws, all of our lives. (x2)
Well, my heart's stopped pumpin', but my blood is still alive.
I lay down with the southern range.
I lay down with the southern range.
I lay down with the southern range.
I lay down with the southern range.
(With a southern range.)
I lay down with the southern range.
(Down with a southern range)
I lay down with the southern range.
(Down with a southern range.)
I lay down with the southern range.
(Down with a southern range.)
I lay down with a southern range.
I lay down with a southern range.
(Down with a southern range)
I lay down with a southern range.
Swallows drop in, and dash the sky.
Tracing lines of cursive on the horizon.
Cutting cat faces in the pines.
Mark the path back to the point of departure.
Two by two, and four by four.
The pines they lay down,
and I lay down with the southern range.
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