Worn-Tin
New Slate
Look out there, beacon of light
String along a basket with your hands held high
License plate banjo carrying stains
Commemorative dolls from the Idaho state
A passing train, pray for space
The ground gets thinner so we all lose faith
But I know nothing
Well, I guess that’s everything I know
I don’t care what you see
There’s no light that’s here for me
You won’t believe what they say
It’s like everyone I know

In the pews, we all pray
All the troops who were my friends
Touched by freedom, praying for peace
When I’ve got nothing left
Instead it’s a commune walking
Break it off and take it off
Serve it like kids on molly
It’s now everything they know