Oh, oh, playing solo on the beach Iwas trying to escape family havoc I stepped within a breach It was far too late to walk The traveler said, move me I'm buttering my hands It's not my symphony But I can take no recourse Plague lost at the knee With and without a ground I just couldn't be It was far too much to stomach The traveler said, move me I'm buttering my hands It's not my symphony But I can take no recourse I killed the deer The flesh stained from my finger tips Stomach filled with meat And I stood in my leather shoes Guilt or truth or comfort, I must choose The Sun had faded away And the suffering she felt within Washed home holidays But I didn't strain my feelings The traveler said, move me I'm buttering my hands It's not my symphony But I can take no recourse Blame it on the hunt and the squirrel Blame it on the tide What about me, am I a slave? Say it to me, would be lying I thought I could justify