The pines

Will we live polite or travel legs?
Legs that travel time, but believe I can.
Mine that yellow gold where the horses ride.
Next i'll believe in the guillotine.

Don't carry all that weight upon you.
You'll feel better soon, I know you will.
Busy soul feels heavy under
these electric machines.

Swinging mighty hard,
Swinging mighty fast.
Under coal trains that are deep with fill.
Clouds forming eyes and the chorus rings.
The horses always ride so much faster, son.

Don't carry all that weight upon you.
You'll feel better soon, I know you will.
Busy soul feels heavy under
these electric machines.

Will we break free or will we fail?
With the coal that's alight at the fingertips
Such a shiny, covert-run addiction
That smile gnashes swords and scissors that cut
Bellies that hold with the shoveling snow
Shiny red pains empty into new homes
Will we break free or will we fail?
With the coal that's alight at the fingertips

Don't carry all that weight upon you.
You'll feel better soon, I know you will.
Busy soul feels heavy under
these electric machines.