Our Age - Teeth That Gnash

He'll stick a pistol to your ribs
Cause he's got nothing sticking to his
He takes a drag of a cigarette and says
Nothing's been new since
Since '66

Just a slight of hand
The traditional scam
Meeting ends
And spreading thin
When it was his time
They laid him facing east
With a clean conscience
Wrapped in dirty sheets

The teeth that gnash are too flat
For the ties that bind
Some circumstances don't saw
They grind

He reads the Journal everyday
And he follows the stocks close
Every morning he butters his gun
Before he
Before he shoots his toast
He dulls down your wits
While tightening his grip
He's the captain of his boat
In a sea of ships
The last hand sought on his last bed
Slipped his grasp and then he came up dry
In the end

The teeth that gnash
Are too flat for the ties that bind
Some circumstances don't saw
They grind

As quiet
But harsh
Like a church choir canary
She spent her life
Writing her own obituary
She speaks profoundly
Of the things she never knew
Now she drags low
In the shallow end
Of the pity pool
Off to trick the snake
Who speaks in code for deception's sake
But the swan's throat's still dry
Be quiet
Be quiet it's not your time

The teeth that gnash
Are too flat for the ties that bind
Some circumstances don't saw
They grind

Written by:
CW Fallin

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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