Tip My Hat
My life's a cigarette turning brown
I'll ride the highway but I'll always turn around
I carved my name in the side of a tree
I go back everyday just to sit and breathe
And I'd tip my hat to the man who can get out of this place
And if I could I would open his door and send him on his way
Cemented to the ground with your screen door kicked out
Plucking a banjo on your porch waiting for the storm to roll on by
My lungs are black like thick exhaust, trying to catch the breath that I've lost
And rain will drive away all this smog, all this smog
But it can't clean out these filthy thoughts
And I'd tip my hat to the man who can get out of this place
And if I could I would open his door and send him on his way
Cemented to the ground with your screen door kicked out
Plucking a banjo on your porch waiting for the storm to roll on by
Is this really home? No it can't be when there's poison in the well turning us to machines
Is this really home? No it can't be when there's poison in the well turning us to machines
Is this really home? No it can't be when there's poison in the well turning us to machines
Turning us to machines
Turning us to machines
And I'd tip my hat to the man who can get out of this place
And if I could I would open his door and send him on his way
Cemented to the ground with your screen door kicked out
Plucking a banjo on your porch waiting for the storm to roll on by
I'll ride the highway but I'll always turn around
I carved my name in the side of a tree
I go back everyday just to sit and breathe
And I'd tip my hat to the man who can get out of this place
And if I could I would open his door and send him on his way
Cemented to the ground with your screen door kicked out
Plucking a banjo on your porch waiting for the storm to roll on by
My lungs are black like thick exhaust, trying to catch the breath that I've lost
And rain will drive away all this smog, all this smog
But it can't clean out these filthy thoughts
And I'd tip my hat to the man who can get out of this place
And if I could I would open his door and send him on his way
Cemented to the ground with your screen door kicked out
Plucking a banjo on your porch waiting for the storm to roll on by
Is this really home? No it can't be when there's poison in the well turning us to machines
Is this really home? No it can't be when there's poison in the well turning us to machines
Is this really home? No it can't be when there's poison in the well turning us to machines
Turning us to machines
Turning us to machines
And I'd tip my hat to the man who can get out of this place
And if I could I would open his door and send him on his way
Cemented to the ground with your screen door kicked out
Plucking a banjo on your porch waiting for the storm to roll on by
Credits
Writer(s): Tayler Lacey
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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