The Mule’s Hind Leg

I drink the red, I spit it up, tipping my glass
I can never shut up. I try to heal, the wound
Never shuts, I'm always on the downside
And hopefully I try to spell, the story of a
Busted tale, another bucket in the well of forward, backward, sink and steal
And you and them my friend
Relieve yourselves with gifted grace
I move the idler that I am
I am the baptized, backhanded, bandit, brother
Tucked into the day, neatly packed away and breathing gently, we are the waves
But who are they? I hope that you, I hope that
You can be my wave and all that we can be
Eventually will keep us free
I try to break the chorus, always bring
Unsober judgement, I try to wake myself up
Now. I'm waiting on razors
Singing Vauderville
I'm behind you
Sincerely I don't even know a single thing
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