| Song | Phantom Limb |
| Artist | Pig Destroyer |
| Album | Phantom Limb |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| Frozen into coats, | |
| White girls of the North, | |
| Filed past one, five and one | |
| They are the fabled lambs, | |
| A Sunday ham, | |
| The ancient snow. | |
| And they could float above the grass, | |
| In circles if they tried, | |
| A latent power I'm known to hide, | |
| To keep some hope alive, | |
| That a girl like I could ever try, | |
| Could ever try. | |
| So we just skirt the hallway signs, | |
| A phantom and a fly, | |
| Follow the lines and wonder why | |
| There's no connection. | |
| And weakened falling eyes, | |
| In cheap shots from the tribe, | |
| And we're often in Marcus’ porch again, | |
| Another afternoon with the gold head tunes, | |
| And pilfered booze. | |
| We wandered through the mama's house, | |
| And the milk from the window lights, | |
| Family portrait circa ninety-five, | |
| This is that foreign land, | |
| With the sprayed on tans, | |
| And it all feels fine, | |
| Beats circus slime, | |
| So, when they tap our mundane heads, | |
| To zombie-walk in our stead, | |
| This town seems hardly worth our time, | |
| And we'll no longer memorize or rhyme, | |
| Too far along in our climb, | |
| Stepping over what now towers to the sky, | |
| With no connection. | |
| Oooh waooooooo waooooooo | |
| Oooh waooooooo waooooooo | |
| Oooh waooooooo waooooooo | |
| Oooh waooooooo waooooooo | |
| So, when they tap our sunday heads, | |
| To zombie-walk in our stead, | |
| This town seems hardly worth our time, | |
| And we'll no longer memorize or rhyme, | |
| Too far along in our climb, | |
| Stepping over what now towers to the sky, | |
| With no connection. | |
| Oooh waooooooo waooooooo | |
| Oooh waooooooo waooooooo | |
| Oooh waooooooo waooooooo | |
| Oooh waooooooo waooooooo | |
| Oooh waooooooo waooooooo | |
| Oooh waooooooo waooooooo |
| Frozen into coats, | |
| White girls of the North, | |
| Filed past one, five and one | |
| They are the fabled lambs, | |
| A Sunday ham, | |
| The ancient snow. | |
| And they could float above the grass, | |
| In circles if they tried, | |
| A latent power I' m known to hide, | |
| To keep some hope alive, | |
| That a girl like I could ever try, | |
| Could ever try. | |
| So we just skirt the hallway signs, | |
| A phantom and a fly, | |
| Follow the lines and wonder why | |
| There' s no connection. | |
| And weakened falling eyes, | |
| In cheap shots from the tribe, | |
| And we' re often in Marcus' porch again, | |
| Another afternoon with the gold head tunes, | |
| And pilfered booze. | |
| We wandered through the mama' s house, | |
| And the milk from the window lights, | |
| Family portrait circa ninetyfive, | |
| This is that foreign land, | |
| With the sprayed on tans, | |
| And it all feels fine, | |
| Beats circus slime, | |
| So, when they tap our mundane heads, | |
| To zombiewalk in our stead, | |
| This town seems hardly worth our time, | |
| And we' ll no longer memorize or rhyme, | |
| Too far along in our climb, | |
| Stepping over what now towers to the sky, | |
| With no connection. | |
| Oooh waooooooo waooooooo | |
| Oooh waooooooo waooooooo | |
| Oooh waooooooo waooooooo | |
| Oooh waooooooo waooooooo | |
| So, when they tap our sunday heads, | |
| To zombiewalk in our stead, | |
| This town seems hardly worth our time, | |
| And we' ll no longer memorize or rhyme, | |
| Too far along in our climb, | |
| Stepping over what now towers to the sky, | |
| With no connection. | |
| Oooh waooooooo waooooooo | |
| Oooh waooooooo waooooooo | |
| Oooh waooooooo waooooooo | |
| Oooh waooooooo waooooooo | |
| Oooh waooooooo waooooooo | |
| Oooh waooooooo waooooooo |
| Frozen into coats, | |
| White girls of the North, | |
| Filed past one, five and one | |
| They are the fabled lambs, | |
| A Sunday ham, | |
| The ancient snow. | |
| And they could float above the grass, | |
| In circles if they tried, | |
| A latent power I' m known to hide, | |
| To keep some hope alive, | |
| That a girl like I could ever try, | |
| Could ever try. | |
| So we just skirt the hallway signs, | |
| A phantom and a fly, | |
| Follow the lines and wonder why | |
| There' s no connection. | |
| And weakened falling eyes, | |
| In cheap shots from the tribe, | |
| And we' re often in Marcus' porch again, | |
| Another afternoon with the gold head tunes, | |
| And pilfered booze. | |
| We wandered through the mama' s house, | |
| And the milk from the window lights, | |
| Family portrait circa ninetyfive, | |
| This is that foreign land, | |
| With the sprayed on tans, | |
| And it all feels fine, | |
| Beats circus slime, | |
| So, when they tap our mundane heads, | |
| To zombiewalk in our stead, | |
| This town seems hardly worth our time, | |
| And we' ll no longer memorize or rhyme, | |
| Too far along in our climb, | |
| Stepping over what now towers to the sky, | |
| With no connection. | |
| Oooh waooooooo waooooooo | |
| Oooh waooooooo waooooooo | |
| Oooh waooooooo waooooooo | |
| Oooh waooooooo waooooooo | |
| So, when they tap our sunday heads, | |
| To zombiewalk in our stead, | |
| This town seems hardly worth our time, | |
| And we' ll no longer memorize or rhyme, | |
| Too far along in our climb, | |
| Stepping over what now towers to the sky, | |
| With no connection. | |
| Oooh waooooooo waooooooo | |
| Oooh waooooooo waooooooo | |
| Oooh waooooooo waooooooo | |
| Oooh waooooooo waooooooo | |
| Oooh waooooooo waooooooo | |
| Oooh waooooooo waooooooo |