Your face is covered in mud.
There’s only one way and it’s down.
You’ve long since ceased brushing off your feet,
you’ve even tossed your tattered crown.
But how can you notice
when everyone is covered too?
You walk around with your hands out.
You’re half alive, half dead everyday.
Your life is a mass of riddles.
You’ve trouble choosing flesh or decay.
But how can you decide,
When everyone’s stuck choosing too?
There is a better way.
Just scrape off your mud today.
Not everyone’s feet are pointed down.
So, pick up your tattered crown.
You’re comfortable with your mess.
It takes too much for you to change.
Too many issues to address,
makes your head swim with pain.
But how can you change,
When no one else is changing too?
Cloaked misfortune follows you.
You say it’s just your bad luck.
But without your little gift,
you’re gonna be counting every buck.
But you’re not alone, babe,
cause everyone is counting too.
There is a better way.
Just scrape off your mud today.
Not everyone’s feet are pointed down.
So, pick up…your tattered crown.
Look around, look around, look around,
It’s not your skin.
Stop thinking, stop thinking if you smile,
someone else is gonna win.
This is not a competition.
credits
from Debra Fotheringham,
released May 9, 2007
Debra Fotheringham - vocals, acoustic guitar, electric guitar, shaker
Giles Reaves - drums, shaker
Ryan Tilby - upright bass
Drew Williams - fiddle
A take on Americana favorites that is at times dark and brooding, other times irreverent and rollicking but always searching for what's true and resonant in American folk songs. Debra Fotheringham
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