Lyrics:

All that was brass swung slow
The overlapping tongues of a folding chair
And I make it hard I know
For you to care

And I’m not asking to hold back now
But you’re not making any sense at all
And all the pioneer scalps are falling out of your bag
And all the colors in their hair remind you that you’ve gone too far
And all the pioneer scalps are falling out

All that was brass swung slow
The overlapping tongues of a folding chair
And I make it hard I know
For you to care

We hope that somehow
We hope that somehow it makes good
We hope that somehow
We hope that somehow it makes good



And all the pioneer scalps are falling out of your bag
And all the colors in their hair remind you that you’ve gone too far
And all the pioneer scalps are falling out