Woe On Me Beck

On the old forgotten crossways where the fourteen rivers did meet
The bones of our elders were lying in the street
On the dark and dusty deserts, like a ghost, I've flown
I barely cried, wherever I'd ride I'd never find a home

Woe on me
Somehow I will feel more free
To wallow in the empty-headed peace
Where the plain-hearted sorrows never cease

Well I am just a ramshackle, I go from town to town
When there is no shelter, I lay down on the ground
I killed for no reason, I pissed upon the vine
Cussed and moaned and burned a bowl when I had the time

Woe on me
Somehow I will feel more free
To wallow in the empty-headed peace
Where the plain-hearted sorrows never cease

There's saints and there is animals, they've taken what they could
And it's written in the pages to do just what they should
They stood the test and burned the rest and tore them limb from limb
Like the fashion with no passion, they opened up their skin

Woe on me
Somehow I will feel more free
To wallow in the empty-headed peace
Where the plain-hearted sorrows never cease