The Mutts - God, Country, Grave

Here tongue told of scrambled eggs – cigarettes
Not her notebook full of I just heaven’t yet’s
She greats me in the morning with Listerine kisses
Her game genie daddy grants her endless wishes
Jesus took a shower down venice beach
Washin’ off the salt from the waves
Her daddy’s in the church underneath a flag
You know what they say, God, country, grave
Skyscrapers cover up the harvest moon
Feeling like a seed cast on stone
A night so coldm it was itchin it was itchin
It ain’t just the roots that won’t leave her alone
No, it’s not the girl and it’s not the war
It ain’t the general or his orders
It’s not the getting lost, or the cost, or the fate
It’s the thought you hate
Would take it all back but it’s no good
I would take it all back – if I could