Walking Stick - Powderfinger

Spoon fed from a dirty plate

A diet designed only to agitate

A veil of pride and gospel truth

To cover the hidden fist that he used

And I won’t say a word

You’ve sewn me in my skin

Hypocrite walking stick man

Silent grave

And the sunken heel kinda slows me down

Dogs and children lift their legs

To tattoo a teenage mothers breasts

Widows of precocious days

Wear slogans resurrected late

Parables for wooden ears

Steer vehicles of wisdom

All the wisdom

And I won’t say a word

You’ve sewn me in my skin

Hypocrite walking stick man

Silent grave

And the sunken heel kinda lights my way

And I won’t say a word

You’ve sewn me in my skin

Hypocrite walking stick man

Silent grave