Wordmule - Jim White

Your world is in flames there ain’t even a name

For the feelings you feel as you watch it all burn.

There’s a girl in the distance, she’s calling your name,

But the name that she’s calling is not your name, she calls:

THE WORD-MULE!

THE WORD-MULE!

THE WORD-MULE!

but he’s plowing the field…

THE WORD-MULE!

THE WORD-MULE!

THE WORD-MULE!

But he’s plowing the field…

And you can’t walk on that water, I know 'cause I tried.

It’s our spider web-thinking, it’s just too heavy with holes.

And our thoughts they are made up of red Georgia clay,

we think we know everything, but man we don’t know:

THE WORD-MULE!

THE WORD-MULE!

THE WORD-MULE!

but he’s plowing the field…

THE WORD-MULE!

THE WORD-MULE!

THE WORD-MULE!

but he’s plowing the field… here come THE WORD-MULE!

My friends,

look out for hustlers for preachers for sheisters,

them silver-tongued saints who pretend to do good,

'cause they?

re geeks biting chicken-heads off with their witty rejoinders they

ain’t nothing but greasy fast food for:

THE WORD-MULE!

THE WORD-MULE!

THE WORD-MULE!

but he’s plowing the field…

THE WORD-MULE!

THE WORD-MULE!

THE WORD-MULE!

but he’s plowing the field…