How many times must I have to paint over these mountains dried up grass?
When all you do is bleed right through it
Deeper than any rooted scab

Burn it, burn it down, beneath the soil
Where you store your crazy sleazy animal dust
I find hard to articulate, I find hard to pronounce
I find hard to articulate, I find hard to pronounce these words
How many times must I have to say You're losing me over a stab
Following dust throughout endless rows
That lead under the open skies
Burn it, burn it to the ground
Watch it melt away

Copyright: BMG Rights Management
Writer(s): Teresa Suarez