Lyrics:
well-worn swag.
He would camp for days in the river-bed,
And loiter and "fish for whales".
"I'm into the swagman's yard," he said.
"And I never shall find
That power
Oh, oh oh
This is on a bus back from camp. I'm thirteen and so are you. Before I left for camp I imagined it would be me and three or four
with the scars beyond this one bar
For me to put down my guard, I'm faced with it, I'ma ride
Breakin' in gas with the six-eight all day
In and out
with the scars beyond this one bar
For me to put down my guard, I'm faced with it, I'ma ride
Breakin' in gas with the six-eight all day
In and out
the light o' day or under the peak-faced moon;
In cabin or dance-hall, camp or dive, mucklucks or patent shoon;
On velvet tundra or virgin peak, by glacier,
Daddy tell me about the old days
How great grandpa came down old Montana way
How the braves used to camp down by the spring
And that old house still
Thus brittle is the hope that the white element
Will not one day fade to black
Better is the singularity
That weathers the crest to trough
Than
every day is a Friday
So much weed you can smell it from the driveway
Uhh, now where the trap stars at
Probably posted in the back on the corner sellin
They crossed over the border, the hour before dawn
Moving in lines through the day
Most of our planes were destroyed on the ground where they lay
They crossed over the border, the hour before dawn
Moving in lines through the day
Most of our planes were destroyed on the ground where they lay
your tire, you gave me your name
So I crashed your camp
With some friends of mine
Reached for your hand
The first of July
Fireworks on the water
Down round the curve in the old Camp Joy circle
You'll come to the end of the county paved road
Left toward the lake past my Uncle Jody's
My Papaw's
Way up high in the Sierra peaks where the yellow jack pines grow tall
Old Sandy Bob and Buster Jiggs had a roundup camp last fall
Oh, they'd taken
Underneath the cool dark shade
Of the pine trees on the hillside
Where I come from
I will stay
Until when the road calls again
I can play the part
the late train home
Stacks of pine trees in the window
In the arms of dusk
Orange crests the canopy
Setting fire to the trees
And suddenly
It's not scary
On a little pine crest
Where 101 takes you all the way
From Santa Barbara to San Jose
Where returners come home to stay
Oh, California
Where avocados are eaten
At which the hungry birds now pecked and tore
I scrambled up to the crest of Primrose Hill
And the Martian's camp was below me
A space it was , and scattered
A crack at the pen is worth two in the bush
I'll keep watching Twin Peaks till my brain is mush
Season two taking my surreal with some camp
If you
Well, it was way high up in the Sierry Petes
Where the yellow pines grow tall
Rusty Diggs and Sandy Sam
Had a round-up camp last fall
They had
the champion sound, you gettin' bucked down
Recognize the Boot Camp Clik out of Bucktown
Gun-thirsty little bastard, always blasted
From the sacks
the champion sound, you gettin' bucked down
Recognize the Boot Camp Clik out of Bucktown
Gun-thirsty little bastard, always blasted
From the sacks
Hypnotized minds, HCP, hypnotized camp posse
We finna do this for all you thievin' ass
Wanna be us ass niggaz out there
Stealin' motherfucker, take ya fake
and mono done sold game to gave game away
Found the hypotenuse
Barbecues labor day
Stones Throw done gone off the deep end
Wit enemies like that well who
crossed the crest of that hill
I saw among the javelin pines
The very golden house of the Lord
Which in its splendour consumed my mind
And I entered into
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