My soul is stuck in that old shack, come hell or high water
It’s not stuck in Sunday school alongside perfect daughters
In the dark of the evening, I can still see your silhouette
I smoked my pipe and you smoked a long cigarette
I cast my eyes upon a scene of rushing train cars
Felt weak beneath a roof of boulevard stars
We rushed through the foggy woods in the morning dew
I carried a pail of regret
And you make it hard to love
And you said I am my father’s son
And I am trying to call your bluff
I hope that is enough
The scars on my arms are from faraway winters
The man who builds the house gets hands full of splinters
You told me the roof would keep me from getting wet
Somehow I’m stuck in here dripping with sweat
And you make it hard to love
And you said I am destined to do as you’ve done
And I am trying to call your bluff
I hope that is enough
So I’ve had a taste of your Jupiter shuffle
You’ve been out under diamonds, now you’re done with the hustle
I don’t see the reason for grasping at things you can’t get
But the scars on your heart stick around to remind you to never forget
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