Letras
It feels so good to be wrong
To climb to the top of a dying pine
Celebrate your every failure
Sleeping in a cold, cold trailer
Beneath the mountain's weary shoulders
Resonating through the hollow
Where this goes I cannot follow
Drinking from that bitter bottle
I drove by the old place a few years back
Nothing left but an empty lot
Beneath the mountain's weak shoulders
In my heart an empty spot
Raise your glass to the river in flood
Drink it down and close your eyes