Out in Arizona there's a pillar of stone,
Underneath the stone there's a cave,
In the middle of the cave is a small mound of dirt,
It's the marker for a Navajo grave.
Inside the grave you'd find the bones of man,
What you wouldn't find in there is a soul,
Because that's out walking the desert tonight,
Tryin' to find a way to be whole.
A travelling man cooking out on his own,
Hears a strange sound that makes him look up,
Sittin' right there is the shape of a man,
That says "buddy, can you spare me a cup?"
"Now, I don't drink Chocca-Mocha-Frappé-Latte-ccino,
Or none o' that Eye-talian crap,
I like American camp fire coffee,
And the only way to drink it is black."
So the stranger pours a coffee and he sips it slow,
As the camp fire glows in the night,
He takes a good look what's cooking on there,
And says "buddy, can you spare me a bite?"
"Now, I don't eat Planet-Friendly-Bufu-Tofu fakery,
Or any vegetarian sh*t,
I like rabbit or flathead catfish,
Roasted to a turn on a spit."
So the stranger cuts a hunk and he digs right in,
Eating off the edge of his knife,
He looks at the traveller shaking with fear,
And says "buddy, can you spare me a life?"
"Now, I don't go for Blood-Suckin'-Skin-Shreddin' showmanship,
Or any kind o' Horror-Book Schtick,
But you got what I need and I aim to take it,
I promise you that this will be quick."
Out there in the scrub there's an empty campsite,
With the fire burned to ash on the morn,
And a warrior searches the dark of the night,
For the means to be completely reborn.
Edited by bassMonkey on December 31 2021 00:27
Underneath the stone there's a cave,
In the middle of the cave is a small mound of dirt,
It's the marker for a Navajo grave.
Inside the grave you'd find the bones of man,
What you wouldn't find in there is a soul,
Because that's out walking the desert tonight,
Tryin' to find a way to be whole.
A travelling man cooking out on his own,
Hears a strange sound that makes him look up,
Sittin' right there is the shape of a man,
That says "buddy, can you spare me a cup?"
"Now, I don't drink Chocca-Mocha-Frappé-Latte-ccino,
Or none o' that Eye-talian crap,
I like American camp fire coffee,
And the only way to drink it is black."
So the stranger pours a coffee and he sips it slow,
As the camp fire glows in the night,
He takes a good look what's cooking on there,
And says "buddy, can you spare me a bite?"
"Now, I don't eat Planet-Friendly-Bufu-Tofu fakery,
Or any vegetarian sh*t,
I like rabbit or flathead catfish,
Roasted to a turn on a spit."
So the stranger cuts a hunk and he digs right in,
Eating off the edge of his knife,
He looks at the traveller shaking with fear,
And says "buddy, can you spare me a life?"
"Now, I don't go for Blood-Suckin'-Skin-Shreddin' showmanship,
Or any kind o' Horror-Book Schtick,
But you got what I need and I aim to take it,
I promise you that this will be quick."
Out there in the scrub there's an empty campsite,
With the fire burned to ash on the morn,
And a warrior searches the dark of the night,
For the means to be completely reborn.
Edited by bassMonkey on December 31 2021 00:27
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