Portugal. The Man - Church Mouth

Sell me, I'm a skeptical boy And if you need help I'm not easily found We met the man in the deep deep south with the gritty smile and the dirty old church mouth "my breath was short better hit the ground runnin" papers, read and weigh down the stands It's cold here and waiting weighs on this man still not full, I need a pass and a page march stepped some steps and it spoke some war tongues flickered about that dirty old church mouth fill me up with money gold cause ain't nobody ever need me my salt was skin of maps made whole gotta get out gotta sell this soul I'll be better when that sleep comes and finds me stroll about through these forks and roads find me in the pines in the sleet and cold Shine on, in this brilliant paced pulse all I need in this life is this love "march stayed with the dirty old church mouth" fill me up with money gold cause ain't no body ever need me my salt was skin of maps made whole gotta get out gotta sell this soul We met the man in the deep deep south with the shit teeth smile that poured about the church's mouth fill me up with money gold cause ain't nobody ever need me then take me to the steeple let the preachers hands a bathe me "march stayed with the dirty old church mouth"