Lyrics:
La-di-dahs drove Mini cars in the summertime.
(In the summertime)
Now they're towed away for parking on a double yellow line,
And they can't pay the fine.
East-West clicks
Let me tell everybody from coast to coast
About the lands we boast, but we don't own jack
How the (fuck) we movin through makin moves like
Norfolk, Virginia, tidewater four-ten-O-nine.
Tell the folks back home this is the Promised Land calling,
And the poor boy is on the line.
to the land of Midnight Sun
And I kissed the squaw at the wigwam door, many times I faced a gun
Brown Eskimo didn't want me to go, when I told her I must run.
on the line, too much on my mind
Too much ain't enough for my plans
Nike don't pay me to tell you, "Just do it"
They pay me to show you I do it again
Huh?
Yeah
Ten G mics and shit
Mics and men, books and pen
Decent rhymes, hooks and lines
One time, where do we begin?
The gritty rugged lands
men, they drink my wine
Plowmen dig my earth
None will level on the line
No one uttered his word
Yeah
I see jokers on my left, thieves up on my
factory,it ain't gonna make me rich
In the darkness before dinner comes
Sometimes I can feel the it
I got a cold mind to go tripping across that thin line
to play
Working on the Muddy Mississippi Line
They pay me ten dollars and I don't save a dime
But I always seem to make enough to see me through
School bell go ding, dong, ding
The children all line up
They do what they are told
Take a little drink from the liar's cup
Mama, she don't
But now she's crossed the line
When she wakes up
I'm gonna break up
With that girl of mine
I'm gonna move out of the city
That don't ever let
of ancient shine
On your ordinary lives
We joyed went to the lines of harvest
So open up the land
Open up the sand
Returning again in Clachan
Chorus
These color lines will make you break you make you choose a side
These color lines these color lines been here since jump
I write these
thumbed an easy ride out on the road that heads due west
To where the main line runs and if we're lucky we'll invest
In a freight train from Kyogle, here
wise
the day he got caught in that old bottom line.
Stanley Crock was a salesman,
and his spiel never failed him.
Stanley pictured himself filthy
to teach some lessons
I made you my world (huh), have you heard? (Huh)
I can reclaim the land
And I miss you (I miss you)
But I miss sparkling (ah, hey)
Mahogany dash, slime, I do the dash, slime
Sit the coke on the glass, slime, she snort a flat line
Good times, no hard times, uh oh, it's that time
We
Come on, yes
Come on, uh
Uh
If I could breathe underwater
Every fish would walk on land
If I could fly in the sky baby
Then wings would be
when I'm rollin'
I'm equipped with the Ruger on my hip with the infrared beam
And I gladly put it on ya from the land of California
Leavin' all of y'all
'Cause under the covers one discovers
That the king may be a crook
Chapter titles are like signs
And if you read between the lines
You'll find your
There's Heaven, then there's somewhere else
And those that fall between
The cracks and land upon their feet
With the rhythm of the King
But most
That train don't stop around here anymore
It done moved on down the line
I'm gonna go back to Grandaddy's farm
On Cherokee allotted land
It ain't
the first ones to starve the first ones to die
The first ones in line for that pie-in-the-sky
And always the last when the cream is shared out
For
it 'cause I want to
So what if I celebrate it standin' on a corner
I ain't drinkin' no 40
I B thinkin' time wit' a nine
Until we get some land
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