echinacea (winterized)

Ben Foster

Pull outta your mind, i-i-ind
Pull outta your mind, i-i-ind
Pull outta your mind, i-i-ind
Pull outta your mind, i-i-ind

Hide whatever's really up your sleeves
The tarps start to come on
'Fore the frost heaves
There's really nothing to it babe
Nah, there's really nothing to it babe

I don't get out of my mind often
The cones are starting to deadhead again
There's really nothing to it babe
They're just pretty words I say

The buttons on the left I do what I please
You are me with my head in my knees
There's dust on the inside it's muffling the sound
I can not survive without you around

Pull outta your mind, i-i-ind
Pull outta your mind, i-i-ind
Pull outta your mind, i-i-ind
Pull outta your mind, i-i-ind

If you hold sand too tightly it'll
Run through your hand and she might leave
There's really nothin to it babe
Ah, what am I to you today
Take a deep breath all the way
Oh, you know it never stays the same

Lay my problems out for me to see and
I'd still get blindsided eventually
There's really nothing to it babe
The birds are up early today

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