Paper Mountain Man

Well, you live in a tiny bungalow With a Dutch wooden door and a pot belly stove You wear Marlboro boots and buckskin jackets Sewn by the love of your many ladies' hands You've been called a hero You've been called to bed You've been to be damned But we'll shake your hand You're like a paper mountain man You live ten telephone poles And two trees up a dirt road Outside the city line You like delicate ladies with real fine skin You'll touch 'em but you'll never love That's the way you've always been You've been called a hero You've been called to bed You've been to be damned But we'll shake your hand You're like a paper mountain man Heard tell you're half a raccoon and half horse trader Taking time to key your life biased high You're wearing curly hair, teasing round your ears With a heavy booted walk tapping low funk blues You've been called a hero You've been called to bed You've been to be damned But we'll shake your hand You're like a paper mountain man