portugal. the man
tommy
Tommy was a preacher's son  Now he's running through the jungle (Yes sir!)  Fingers cold and fire  When you get so tired and we're so tired   Lazing back in this desert  Waitin' for that sunny day   Tommy was a preacher's son  Now he's running through the streets sellin' up that cocaine  Those fires will get ya  When you get too tired and we're so tired  Eyes blister beaded fortress rolling fevered freight trains in   Well I met three men with friends in office  Smooth dark skin and ivory teeth smiles  Our boots come alive in this mud and this shit   "Life is hard to fill with teeth that bite and eat up our fears"  Through August fall of '69  Jesus had birthed him  He spoke in guns through crippled sheets  For Jesus had birthed him  Sugar cubes fingernails worming snakes that built the fire