Available Recordings: Click to view
Lyrics (as posted by the mod on brümstix):
He's a wounded animal
He lives in a matchbox
He's a wounded animal
And he's been coming around here
He's a dying breed
His daughter is twenty years of snow falling
She is twenty years of strangers looking into each other's eyes
She is twenty years of clean
And she never truly hated anyone or anything
She's a dying breed
She says, I'd prefer the moss
I'd prefer the mouth
A baby of the swamps
A baby of the south
I'm twenty years of clean
I never truly hated anyone or anything
Twenty years of clean
But I've got to get me out of here
This place is full of dirty old men
And the navigators with their mappy maps
And moldy heads and pissin' on sugarcubes
While you stare at your books
And the words float out like holograms
They say, feel the waltz, feel the waltz
Come on, baby, baby, now feel the waltz...
