Text: Drive By Truckers. Brighter Than Creation's Dark. A Ghost To Most.

I guess I'll never grow a sideburn
it's a shame with all I got to go between
I hope somebody's cause takes soon
it's getting hard to find a place a root can sink
mama said alot of things and "be thankful" was the one she never minded saying twice
thanks to her I can think clear enough
to be thankful she died before tonight

saving everyone takes a man on a mission
with a swagger that can set the world at ease
some believe it's God's own hand on the trigger
and the other dumping water in the streets
talking tough is easy when it's other people's evil
and you're judging what they do and don't believe
it seems to me you would have to have a hole your own
to point a finger at somebody else's sheet


baby every bone in my body's gone to jumping
like they're gonna come through my skin
if they could get along without the rest of me, it wouldn't matter if they did
but skeletons ain't got no place to stick their money
nobody makes britches that size
and besides you're a ghost to most before they notice
that you ever had a hair or a hide

I don't know how good it does a man
to keep on telling him how good it is he's free
free to wash his ghost down the drain
and free for them to tell him there's no such a thing