Album: Burden
(Johnson)

Claustrophobic in this consciousness
Dust and dead’uns all I see
Nature is hell and all the women act light
When in fact they’re feeling heavy

That dainty little woman bears you a child
Then she bears you a grudge
She comes into your room late at night
And out of something, maybe nothing, comes love

The devil will dance with an olive branch
Then sell you a bill of goods
To bless with one hand, the other enjoins a curse
Your silence is well understood

Hands are shook, palms are greased
No one’s listenin’ in the elevator shaft
Down goes up, forth goes back
You writhe as you ride through each path

Caught in a trap in this consciousness
Dust and dead’uns that is all
Supine in a box, the last nail fit…