Common Market 40 Acres
Heard ‘em singin’ “this is my land” standin’ on Mama
Helen’s
With the band off-key; will fill ‘em with jealousy
Well develop a gluttonous thirst for sullen fiends
I pilot the Allis Chalmers over skulls in the ravine
Chokin’ horse power – open her up and holler “fuck
class”
Specialized degree in chemistry, huffin’ mustard gas
High hopes, underachiever he tends to overdose
Hella smell of smoke and soda, the mode is so morose
Nam vet, still in camouflage circa ‘85
Way to ride, son – I seen your father on the day he
died
Dropped this in the pocket with the gem in the ear
f..ck the watch, old man, it’s the wisdom I wanna hear
Fought with the words, inexperienced in the expression
The voice fades, granted it’s a vague recollection but
“Let it pass,” is what he leant – what it meant? Never
asked
Many mysteries will be revealed through the devil’s
craft
I’m a fast study, barn burner, the charm turnin’
Ugly under sparks when sharpening up the cutlery
Skill a little rusty but trust me, I’mma resuscitate
This call is hard to kill off once it culminates
Hibernation, my obligation is contractual
Where have all the good men gone? They’re on sabbatical
Baptizing my goddaughter, water wash the hands of blood
But soles soiled with the sand and mud
For the love of them rise above and cleanse the sins
I can part with that much, just don’t touch the timbs
Every scuff I earned, armchair sucker-tough, I yearn
To compare it to the stuff I learned
Colonel status ‘til the graduate passed on, the pursuit
of
Passion will stop upon a plot on Vashon
Nice one, boy – the soy that’s on the upper row
Price one; that’s a bison, not a buffalo
Hustle grand, seen a demand for organic
In toxicity limits – infinitely more panic
They’re resorting to importing plants from other
planets
It cancels out the importance of the advantage
They’re tantric types – neophytes with dietary
afflictions
Imposing proprietary restrictions
Time to go to war, shortly I’ll be back in Drennon
Attending to 40 acres and a dissident…
