I keep my father's gun underneath my bed Next to the magazines I never read Painted faces hover around my eyes Painted faces hover around like flies Oh, I'm going home on the back of a storm from down below Oh, no one will know what happened to my body, what happened to my bones I don't need a preacher boy. I know I'm right I've got the spirit now. I've got my forty-fives Painted faces paint their lives on me Painted faces. Painting endlessly Oh, I'm going home on the back of a storm from down below Oh, no one will know what happened to my body, what happened to my bones Painted faces paint their lives on me