Lady North

Ghost with a grin outside a skin house

Set in the middle of a forty acre marsh

Wrapped in moisture, growing, living things

All around the dead arms, dead arms of spring

It was my stab at faith, a losing one

Derailing any one I had

You take my hand and threw me in the

Grave, grave, grave, grave, yeah

Now hold your throat

The air's a little worse than last week

It's little bit warmer than last week

It's not like you weren't informed

You're enlightened now

It makes no difference anyway

We're all on the same list of names

Black tar running from your mouth

Engine exhaust smoking out your ears

Yellow nails and hair like

Twine, twine, twine, twine, yeah

Slow fuel on your side, sharp tip

Running water black as night

I'm not sure if you're really that informed

You're like a small bird needing to be fed

It's probably something you won't take well

Loosening every state

Trying to rearrange

The way I want to look

Take some out altogether

Move a few close together

And sing, sing a long

It's the death rattle hymn

For a place removed from inside

It's for the party of sins which always

Wins a place down below

Car balanced on an old wood chair

Barely hanging on

And I'll be there