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Toms Tune / Lyrics

Coffee-stain savior appears on my page
To guide me through headlines of sorrow and rage
Whispers of scripture from some empty tomb
Try to convince us the end will be soon

But I don’t believe the things that I’ve read
I have my own voice in my own head
half-truths fly from a wise mans tongue
To water the gardens that grow in our young

(I smell) Smoke from a dead mans pipe in the air
Tracks of the ghost train that lead to nowhere
its the wild, wild west all over again
Except man decides best with the wave of his pen

But I can’t put stock in the things that you’ve said
I have no more space to rent in my head
Truths are untied and tales are spun
To poison the gardens that grow in our young

I’ve read biased ain’t born, its something that’s bred
Thru nature or nurture or Twitter instead
In soil that’s pure the seeds are pressed deep
Action is traction and talk is still cheap
Action is traction, talk is still cheap

I don’t agree with a word that you’ve said
And now I got your voice, stuck in my head
And before that thought ever reaches your tongue
Remember the gardens that grow in our young