Petersburg, Liberty Theater, 1914
If when you call she comes for you, give your all, boy
We shot the holes in the portable well
And that's why your boyfriend tracked us
In the wastes that the demons of hell avoid as the road bends
And the pity of woman is the seed of our sainthood
Born from a slack din done blasted
Done, by the archangel's light, "I hate your new boyfriend"
We sow the songs the earth bears our wrong our pales wrongs all along
Writer/s: Casey Allen Mercer, Daniel Bejar, Spencer Krug
