40 Acres Lyrics
| Song | 40 Acres |
| Artist | Common Market |
| Album | Tobacco Road |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| Heard ‘em singin’ “this is my land” standin’ on Mama Helen’s | |
| With the band off-key; will fill ‘em with jealousy | |
| Well develop a gluttonous thirst for sullen fiends | |
| I pilot the Allis Chalmers over skulls in the ravine | |
| Chokin’ horse power – open her up and holler “fuck class” | |
| Specialized degree in chemistry, huffin’ mustard gas | |
| High hopes, underachiever he tends to overdose | |
| Hella smell of smoke and soda, the mode is so morose | |
| Nam vet, still in camouflage circa ‘85 | |
| Way to ride, son – I seen your father on the day he died | |
| Dropped this in the pocket with the gem in the ear | |
| Fuck the watch, old man, it’s the wisdom I wanna hear | |
| Fought with the words, inexperienced in the expression | |
| The voice fades, granted it’s a vague recollection but | |
| “Let it pass,” is what he leant – what it meant? Never asked | |
| Many mysteries will be revealed through the devil’s craft | |
| I’m a fast study, barn burner, the charm turnin’ | |
| Ugly under sparks when sharpening up the cutlery | |
| Skill a little rusty but trust me, I’mma resuscitate | |
| This call is hard to kill off once it culminates | |
| Hibernation, my obligation is contractual | |
| Where have all the good men gone? They’re on sabbatical | |
| Baptizing my goddaughter, water wash the hands of blood | |
| But soles soiled with the sand and mud | |
| For the love of them rise above and cleanse the sins | |
| I can part with that much, just don’t touch the timbs | |
| Every scuff I earned, armchair sucker-tough, I yearn | |
| To compare it to the stuff I learned | |
| Colonel status ‘til the graduate passed on, the pursuit of | |
| Passion will stop upon a plot on Vashon | |
| Nice one, boy – the soy that’s on the upper row | |
| Price one; that’s a bison, not a buffalo | |
| Hustle grand, seen a demand for organic | |
| In toxicity limits – infinitely more panic | |
| They’re resorting to importing plants from other planets | |
| It cancels out the importance of the advantage | |
| They’re tantric types – neophytes with dietary afflictions | |
| Imposing proprietary restrictions | |
| Time to go to war, shortly I’ll be back in Drennon | |
| Attending to 40 acres and a dissident… |
| Heard ' em singin' " this is my land" standin' on Mama Helen' s | |
| With the band offkey will fill ' em with jealousy | |
| Well develop a gluttonous thirst for sullen fiends | |
| I pilot the Allis Chalmers over skulls in the ravine | |
| Chokin' horse power open her up and holler " fuck class" | |
| Specialized degree in chemistry, huffin' mustard gas | |
| High hopes, underachiever he tends to overdose | |
| Hella smell of smoke and soda, the mode is so morose | |
| Nam vet, still in camouflage circa ' 85 | |
| Way to ride, son I seen your father on the day he died | |
| Dropped this in the pocket with the gem in the ear | |
| Fuck the watch, old man, it' s the wisdom I wanna hear | |
| Fought with the words, inexperienced in the expression | |
| The voice fades, granted it' s a vague recollection but | |
| " Let it pass," is what he leant what it meant? Never asked | |
| Many mysteries will be revealed through the devil' s craft | |
| I' m a fast study, barn burner, the charm turnin' | |
| Ugly under sparks when sharpening up the cutlery | |
| Skill a little rusty but trust me, I' mma resuscitate | |
| This call is hard to kill off once it culminates | |
| Hibernation, my obligation is contractual | |
| Where have all the good men gone? They' re on sabbatical | |
| Baptizing my goddaughter, water wash the hands of blood | |
| But soles soiled with the sand and mud | |
| For the love of them rise above and cleanse the sins | |
| I can part with that much, just don' t touch the timbs | |
| Every scuff I earned, armchair suckertough, I yearn | |
| To compare it to the stuff I learned | |
| Colonel status ' til the graduate passed on, the pursuit of | |
| Passion will stop upon a plot on Vashon | |
| Nice one, boy the soy that' s on the upper row | |
| Price one that' s a bison, not a buffalo | |
| Hustle grand, seen a demand for organic | |
| In toxicity limits infinitely more panic | |
| They' re resorting to importing plants from other planets | |
| It cancels out the importance of the advantage | |
| They' re tantric types neophytes with dietary afflictions | |
| Imposing proprietary restrictions | |
| Time to go to war, shortly I' ll be back in Drennon | |
| Attending to 40 acres and a dissident |
| Heard ' em singin' " this is my land" standin' on Mama Helen' s | |
| With the band offkey will fill ' em with jealousy | |
| Well develop a gluttonous thirst for sullen fiends | |
| I pilot the Allis Chalmers over skulls in the ravine | |
| Chokin' horse power open her up and holler " fuck class" | |
| Specialized degree in chemistry, huffin' mustard gas | |
| High hopes, underachiever he tends to overdose | |
| Hella smell of smoke and soda, the mode is so morose | |
| Nam vet, still in camouflage circa ' 85 | |
| Way to ride, son I seen your father on the day he died | |
| Dropped this in the pocket with the gem in the ear | |
| Fuck the watch, old man, it' s the wisdom I wanna hear | |
| Fought with the words, inexperienced in the expression | |
| The voice fades, granted it' s a vague recollection but | |
| " Let it pass," is what he leant what it meant? Never asked | |
| Many mysteries will be revealed through the devil' s craft | |
| I' m a fast study, barn burner, the charm turnin' | |
| Ugly under sparks when sharpening up the cutlery | |
| Skill a little rusty but trust me, I' mma resuscitate | |
| This call is hard to kill off once it culminates | |
| Hibernation, my obligation is contractual | |
| Where have all the good men gone? They' re on sabbatical | |
| Baptizing my goddaughter, water wash the hands of blood | |
| But soles soiled with the sand and mud | |
| For the love of them rise above and cleanse the sins | |
| I can part with that much, just don' t touch the timbs | |
| Every scuff I earned, armchair suckertough, I yearn | |
| To compare it to the stuff I learned | |
| Colonel status ' til the graduate passed on, the pursuit of | |
| Passion will stop upon a plot on Vashon | |
| Nice one, boy the soy that' s on the upper row | |
| Price one that' s a bison, not a buffalo | |
| Hustle grand, seen a demand for organic | |
| In toxicity limits infinitely more panic | |
| They' re resorting to importing plants from other planets | |
| It cancels out the importance of the advantage | |
| They' re tantric types neophytes with dietary afflictions | |
| Imposing proprietary restrictions | |
| Time to go to war, shortly I' ll be back in Drennon | |
| Attending to 40 acres and a dissident |
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