Shoot the Singer (1 Sick Verse)

Someone took in these pants Somebody painted over paint Painted wood And where he stood, no one stands It's been said he's sitting now In the churning land Well, I've seen saints, but remember That I forgot to flag 'em down When they passed And in the morning light You hold that ashtray tight You could put it out But I can't put it out My hands shook, down and out I've got the blisters of the world World new I name the book after you So look up and watch the camera lens When the risers fade Slow it down! Song is sacred! And brother, you're a hunter And you're right at home And in the morning light I'll hold my ashtray tight I could take it down And you can't take it down La-da-da-da-da-da-da La-da-da-da-da-da-da La-da-da-da-da-da-da La-da-da-da-da-da-da La-da-da-da-da-da-da La-da-da-da-da-da-da, da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da... Don't expect Don't expect Don't expect Don't expect Don't expect Don't expect Don't expect