His face is dark, impenetrable He likes to look like someone who has seen too much His hair slicked back, black, held on to him like a cap He gave the vague impression of being out of touch And he cut himself shaving this morning Singing into the mirror with all of the joy of being alone He's thirty five years young with a sloppy toothpaste tongue And he chuckles at the speckles of his blood Amongst the freckles on his neck His marriage is wrecked admittedly But surely there are still reasons to sing Good reasons to sing His throat pours Of course he is still an innocent He doesn't save his time he spends it He is still an innocent So he stands and there he sings With the condensation rising all around him from the sink His wife ran off and left him but he's happy as hell this morning With his father in the mirror and his song, singing We will cut them down in the pa**es Just as his father had sung once to him Singing we will cut them down in the pa**es With the condensation rising all around him from the sink From the cattle call to the lake at the perimeter From deep in the belly of summer to the frozen fingertips of winter We will make a fool out of you yet I would bet on it with the last coin I have left We will cut them down in the pa**es Just as his father had sung once to him Singing we will cut them down in the pa**es With the condensation rising all around him from the sink We will cut them down in the pa**es Singing we will cut them down in the pa**es