Tracy Chapman

from by Throwing Stuff

/

lyrics

You can tell me all your lies, I’ll cut you down to size
You can tell us that the science doesn’t fit, I know you’re all wrapped up in it
Just don’t tell us there’s a future, at least if things go on like this
I fucking love this world and you’re the one destroying it
The foundations are weak in the home where I sleep
Where my dreams are punctuated by crumbling teeth
No hope, not a dead heat
You haven’t got the time to fucking drag your feet
The house that Richard Arkwright built is a shady fucking construction
The rising damp and the mice infestation are the least of your fucking problems
You’re in for a penny, you’re in for a pound
But I’m begging you please leave that shit in the ground
I’m trying my best not to frown
But it’s absolute, it’s binding and it’s bringing me down

I want to lie on a mattress in the middle of my room
And listen to Fast Car until this all blows over

credits

from Fit, Fine & Well, released April 7, 2017

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