lyrics
There’s something on the banks of the Buffalo, a fear of a place where the trees don’t grow. Smoke rolls up from Arkansas, and everybody take a look around. And they’re breathin’ deep the cedarwood smog. Stoke the fire, add another log. Take a lungful of that old-time sound, and everybody take a look around. Everybody take a look around.
A funny orange tint falls on the town, and everybody’s driving with their windows down. Upholstery smells like campfire fumes, and everybody take a look around. And they’re talkin’ ‘bout theories, talkin’ ‘bout rumors. Talkin’ “White Noise”, talkin’ ‘bout tumors. For the next five minutes we think about Heaven, and we try not to think about Hell.
We need a controlled burn. I am a controlled burn.
Shift into low-gear, heel-to-toe. Curse the pavement, take a back road. Try to remember what it is that we’re living for, try to take a look around. And marvel at the limestone, marvel at the grass, cuz everyone else just sees celluloid glass. They’re just staring at a movie on a windshield, nobody takes a look around. Yeah, nobody takes a look around.
We need a controlled burn. I am a controlled burn.
Hey, my little girl, well I know you’re scared, cuz you know there’s a lot more than life out there. Something called Death, and it’s playin’ your song, and everybody take a look around. And they’re trying to find the melody, trying to find the key, and that’s why I’m gonna hold you close to me. So we can take a lungful of that old-time sound. Take a lungful of that old-time sound.
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