A Small Plot Of Land (Live)

Poor soul

Spit upon that

Poor soul

He never knew what hit him

And it hit him so

Poor dunce

He pushed back the pigmen

The barbs laughed

The fool is dead

Poor dunce

He's less than within us the

Brains talk

But the will to live is dead

And prayer can't

Travel so far these days

The talk of your lives

Standing so near

Two innocent eyes

Poor dunce

Swings through the tunnels

And claws his way

Is small life so manic

Are these really the days

Poor dunce

Poor dunce

Poor soul

Spit upon that

Poor soul

He never knew what hit him

And it hit him so

He pushed back the pigmen

Poor soul

Poor soul

Poor soul

Poor soul