Skinhole

The ground at the front of the barn has been acting strange All flexible and sometimes writhing after last night's rain The kids have been poking at the spot with makeshift spears As the earth spurts stagnant bloody red Viscous matter, crimson vistas etched into the soil Cradle your family still, I know that you will, it's all that you got here And the taxpayer's live-action almanac has prophesied a storm It'll be fine, give it some time, maybe next year I fucked up forgot about Soloman was dropping off the hay load He nearly lost his truck and his trailer We spent three goddamn hours pulling it out and cleaning it off His brakes failed he took a wide 70 mile an hour And rather than splatter his family 'round a tree They demolished a station wagon But no one makes it out alive, no, no one makes it out alive Viscous matter, crimson vistas etched into the soil Cradle your family still, I know that you will, it's all that you got here And the taxpayer's live-action almanac has prophesied a storm It'll be fine, give it some time, maybe next year It'll be fine, give it some time, maybe next year It'll be fine, give it some time, maybe next year F*ck