The Mule's Hind Leg Songtext

I drink the red, I spit it up, tipping my glass
I can never shut up. I try to heal, the wound
never shuts, I'm always on the downside.
And hopefully I try to spell, the story of a
busted tale, another bucket in the well of forward, backward, sink and steal.
And you and them my friend,
relieve yourselves with gifted grace,
I move the idler that I am.
I am the baptized, backhanded, bandit, brother
tucked into the day, neatly packed away and breathing gently, we are the waves.