Walking Stick
Powderfinger
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Spoon fed from a dirty plate
A diet designed only to agitate
A veil of pride and gospel truth
To cover the hidden fist that he used
And I won't say a word
You've sewn me in my skin
Hypocrite walking stick man
Silent grave
And the sunken heel kinda slows me down
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Dogs and children lift their legs
To tattoo a teenage mothers breasts
Widows of precocious days
Wear slogans resurrected late
Parables for wooden ears
Steer vehicles of wisdom
All the wisdom
And I won't say a word
You've sewn me in my skin
Hypocrite walking stick man
Silent grave
And the sunken heel kinda lights my way
And I won't say a word
You've sewn me in my skin
Hypocrite walking stick man
Silent grave