I keep my father's gun underneath my bed
Next to the magazines I never read
Painted faces hover around my eyes
Painted faces hover around like flies
Oh, I'm going home on the back of a storm from down below
Oh, no one will know what happened to my body, what happened to my bones
I don't need a preacher boy. I know I'm right
I've got the spirit now. I've got my forty-fives
Painted faces paint their lives on me
Painted faces. Painting endlessly
Oh, I'm going home on the back of a storm from down below
Oh, no one will know what happened to my body, what happened to my bones