Some of the men I have been striking with all summer long are back to work, bored stiff as a corpse in the sawmill, breathless in the bush, or worse. My mill is not back at it yet but one day soon the phone is going to ring up and down my spine. Someone on the other end of the line is going to say, "Beer, you better put that bottle down. We're starting up on Monday. And with the inflated Canadian dollar we aren't going to be able to afford to fuck around."
When it all comes down
There'll be nothing left to catch you but the ground
It's calling your name and filling your head
With delusions of glory
Is this how you're gonna write your story?
Down in your time as a high-flying flame out
Sucking on what's left of your trust fund?
Sucking on the end of a shotgun
But there's more here than meets the eye
The real story is under the surface
We're all so in love with the artifice
We don't dare look too close
It's a blessing and a curse
Watch out, Eugene, you don't make things worse
Wild dreams come true, what to do then?
Confusion and glory
A man's got to think it all through
Got to do what you got to do
It's itching to conquer and take you
Itching to make a mistake out of you
It's a blessing and a curse
I wish it didn't hurt so much
I wish it didn't hurt so much
I wish it didn't hurt so much
Patterson Hood
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