Lyrics Sod in the Seed - WHY?
His
hooves
in
dirt
pound
And
eat
up
ground
He
cannot
remain
bound
When
the
trumpets
sound
Let's
review
some
recent
facts
I
make
decent
cash,
I'm
a
minor
star
And
we
can't
last
if
she
don't
drive
a
hybrid
car
I
scribble
vapid
raps
on
your
flyer
backs
The
word
is
I
purchased
a
refurbished
Mac
G4
Pull
up
to
critical
mass
in
a
gas-guzzling
Ford
Just
to
ask
you
when
next
your
rock
outfit
performs
Before
you
tell
me
the
fact,
I'm
down
the
road
yelling
back
Please
post
it
on
the
Whole
Foods
bulletin
board
I'd
earn
a
lick
of
respect
in
slum
art
for
sure
But
I
threw
out
my
lumbar
picking
up
checks
I'm
so
numb,
Lord,
yes,
despite
how
I'm
blessed
I'm
destined
to
end
up
a
slum
lord
depressed
Come
by,
poorly
dressed,
your
address
on
the
first
Hum
something
under
my
breath
that
half
resembles
some
words
And
like
a
bird
in
a
suit
cut
for
a
brutish
bear
Back
out
of
there
bowing
like
a
Jew
in
prayer
I'll
never
shirk
this
first
world
curse
A
steady
hurt
and
a
sturdy
purse
A
small
dark
bard,
I'll
give
an
inch
to
start
Then
leave
you
home
dreaming
of
the
whole
nine
yards
Leave
you
home
dreaming,
believing
that
you'd
seen
me
Loose
skin
breathing
like
a
cathedral
at
evening
Screaming
like
a
demon
in
the
Garden
of
Eden
Missing
what
parts
that
a
stork
in
its
beak
brings
But
even
what
an
evil
man
thinks
is
really
pink
And
on
his
insides,
doesn't
mean
you
shouldn't
pull
his
card
out
So
what
if
a
man
blinks
in
Morse
code
while
he
sings
if
he
sings
his
heart
out?
Everybody's
gotta
get
paid
I'd
say
"far
out,
no
way"
Frankly,
I'd
be
amazed
But
a
patriot
would
save
the
day
Make
the
hitch,
help
C.I.A
What's
bad,
what's
good
A
complicated
man
is
misunderstood,
even
to
himself
Acutely
unaware
what's
in
a
shallow
breath
of
air
And
long
exhale
of
something
else
Two
sips,
instant
drip,
Sanka
mud
New
corpus
publicist,
thanks
ya
bud
As
hundred
bucks
worth
of
wordy
blogger
thugs
Come
forth
forthwith
to
four
seasons
aflood
To
morbidly
orbit
your
toilet
like
hornets
abuzz
Forming
above
like
buzzards
in
love
When
you
first
wake
up,
spitting
sick
from
the
gut
And
shitting
black
blood
at
six
Then
you
wonder
why
I'm
high
up,
sitting,
yup
The
blundering
braggart
From
a
covered
wagon
spitting
under
the
vagrants
in
gutters
What,
does
it
make
me
evil?
Am
I
a
feeble
deranged
fuck?
Cause
Jesus
would
and
I
would
not
drive
the
needle
exchange
truck?
Well
if
I'm
out
of
luck,
I'm
still
pitching
notes
through
this
throat
Pissing
fears
and
hopes
through
the
ears
of
folks
listening
No
matter
what,
batter
up
enough
of
this
nonsense
You
can
gather
up
the
contents
of
the
catcher's
cup
and
suck
You
kneel
and
squint
your
eyes
and
cup
your
hands
against
the
window
Just
to
see
who
rides,
to
get
a
glimpse
inside
the
limo
Have
some
self-respect
and
exercise
some
tact
While
I
supply
the
info
that
you
lack
One
must
pay
the
frat
fee
to
enjoy
the
fat-free
snacks
Strippers,
roofies,
and
six-packs,
and
groupies
with
big
breasts
Sending
out
mass
texts
asking
who's
next
To
get
his
lance
waxed
in
the
wickedest
sex
acts
Step
back
from
the
stretch,
mack,
and
mind
the
gap
With
all
due
respect
sir,
there's
a
limited
cap
You'll
need
a
ticket
to
kick
it
in
the
back
Of
this
rented,
tinted-out
black
Cadillac
But
I
can
tell
by
your
polo
slacks,
Sebagos,
and
blank
stare
You're
good
for
the
total
package
and
game
to
be
back
there
But
who
am
I
to
judge
a
man's
heart
by
his
yacht
wear?
And
it
scares
me
to
death,
yes,
that
I'm
starting
to
not
care
Good
and
evil's
often
neither
strength
or
flaw
But
sod
in
the
seed
of
what
you
are
A
filthy
silt
stashed
in
a
white
silk
sash
Or
a
doula
dove
smashed
in
an
airplane
crash
You'll
never
shirk
this
first
world
curse
A
steady
hurt
and
a
sturdy
purse
A
steady
hurt
and
a
sturdy
purse
1 Jonathan's Hope
2 Strawberries
3 Waterlines
4 Thirteen on High
5 White English
6 Danny
7 Sod in the Seed
8 Distance
9 Thirst
10 Kevin's Cancer
11 Bitter Thoughts
12 Paper Hearts
13 As a Card
Attention! Feel free to leave feedback.