Mountain Goats Pure Heat
The wind from the north, flattens the yellow corn.
You come into the house, with your dress torn.
I can see you now, as through a screen.
A smile on your face, your fingers dripping kerosene
Your hair hangs down, over me.
Your hair casts a shadow to cover me.
I can see you now, as through a screen.
A smile on your face, your fingers dripping kerosene
The wind from the north, cools me.
The wind from the north, doesn't fool me.
I can see you now, as through a screen.
A smile on your face, your fingers dripping kerosene
