I'm dead, got nothing to lose
The biggest fucker around's gonna give himself
The blues trying to make trouble for a dead man
What's that, you're mistaken
The spot you wanted most has already been taken
And it's been taken by your own self
No reason for a hasty retreat
You're dead just a little bit too
Perhaps you've forgotten all the things you can't do
Like letting your belly get swollen
From lack of food
And every broken rock or bone
Or blue-green god tree or the smell of damp
Or the touch of you reminds me
Of the you we once knew
Writer(s): Curtis Mathew Kirkwood, Cris Kirkwood, Derrick Bostrom
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