A fine summer day
For picking fruit and consequence
A fine summer day
Sun shining down on swollen lips
A fine secret way
A muddy trip down to the riverbank
A quiet angry day
Dirt on my thighs and down my back
Driving down to Texas
It’s where I learned to Live again
The road gave me religion
Or at least some faith in my fellow man
But the plague it brought me truth
Unpolished stark and glittering
Like a broken tooth
Something sharp and simmering
Oh how they count
Oh how they crow
A man reaps
Just what he sows
A fine summer day
For picking cotton and consequence
singing
A fine summer day
Sun shining down on swollen hips
A fine secret way
A quick trip down to the shack and back
In and out
And if you don’t pull it out
Ole Ben Franklin’s got a cure for that
Driving north to Washington
They built this town on the dead and dying
I ain’t saying we should burn it down
But I couldn’t blame you for trying
And July 4th is coming
That heavy breathing feel
So cross your legs for the anthem girls
Cause they frankly like it when you kneel
Oh how they count
Oh how they crow
A man reaps
Just what he sows
The long road beat the high road
And I’ve been trying to be kind
But the low road beats the high road
every time
I got ideas for all yer hippie hemp
Way up past the Delaware
Retrace old George’s steps to where
They ain’t outlawed hanging yet
A fine summer day
For picking sides and consequences
A fine summer day
Sun shining down on swollen lips
A fine secret way
A muddy trip down to the riverbank
digging
A quiet angry day
Blood on my thighs and on my fists
They say dig two graves for vengeance
At least a thousand for a war
But don’t dig none for justice
Leave em hanging by the door
Cut all six down and let them ripen on the floor
I was never too wrong
But I’m not a good man anymore
Oh how they count Oh how they crow
A man reaps Just what he sows