The Son of Man

They put me in a cloth
Tied it up with a crow's feather
They dug a hole for me
They put me in it

In this tiny piece of land
They tried to make me grow
Only the dirt and the rain would feed me
And there he watched

Solo and a swig of the moon's liquor
The birds kept me alive
The bears would beat me
The bees found a home

Oh, how I should've listened to my old man
To let the owl get to my head
But I'm standing there

With nothing but an apple on my head
Waiting for him to hit the curve
To cut me up in curves
For him to get warm



Credits
Writer(s): Balog Zsombor
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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