if i could do this for you i would i would raise this country to your lips give you a painters hands oh you the lines on my brow you the shadows under my eyes always we watched the world going blind our country such a mess our history a stray this stray has its head in my lap i have nothing to give you just my eagerness to please you an open bitterness for your hands without a paintbrush i think i will always see your face that look of fear that calms me but i cant seem to protect you even though i try this stray that will never leave me i have nothing to give you just my eagerness to please you an open bitterness for your hands without a paintbrush
['iowa indie']