Woe On Me - Beck

On the old forgotten crossways where the fourteen rivers did meet

The bones of our elders were lying in the street

On the dark and dusty desert like a ghost I’ve flown

I barely cried, wherever I’d ride I’d never find a home

Woe on me, somehow I will feel more free

To wallow in the empty-headed peace

Where the plain-hearted sorrows never cease

Well I am just a ramshackle, I go from town to town

When there is no shelter, I lay down on the ground

I killed for no reason, I pissed upon the vine

Cussed and moaned and burned the bone when I had the time

Woe on me, somehow I will feel more free

To wallow in the empty-headed peace

Where the plain-hearted sorrows never cease

There’s saints and there is animals, they’ve taken what they could

And it’s written in the pages to do just what they should

They stood the test and burned the rest and tore them limb from limb

Like the fashion with no passion, they opened up their skin

Woe on me, somehow I will feel more free

To wallow in the empty-headed peace

Where the plain-hearted sorrows never cease