Text: Mountain Goats (The). Come, Come To The Sunset Tree. High Doses #2.

we all woke up that morning,
claw marks on our little faces.
the dull thud from the treetops
the echo in the hollow places
rose up high and lonely
wringing my hands, grinding my teeth
all the triumph overhead
all the disaster underneath

spat out my morning prayers
desperate pleas and viscious lies.
felt the sunlight thugh the grating,
coverered up my eyes.
woke up feeling awful
shook my head to drive the ghosts way
this is just a flesh wound
and it will clear up any day.
but the present i got planned for you pricks,
is gonna be a little harder to fix.
thank god
for small favors
in high doses.

heard the voices through the air vents
listen to them squeal
the great big world is out there
the hidden one beneath my heel
called up my sister in reseda,
left a message at the tone.
all the points where contact fails us
all of the dead spots in the zone

and the acid in my throat
every time i try to talk
the songs that keep me up at night
standing on that solid rock
rose up high and dry and lonely
stumbled coming out the gate
this is just a paper cut
and it will scab over just you wait.
but the cuts that i'll shortly being dealing out,
are gonna give you something to cry about.

thank god
for small favors
in high doses