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Of Mites And Men Lyrics
My heart is not clean,
Your table is green,
Too collect my things,
The harvest of every men,
Is in the can.
In a single city,
A strand in your hand,
Where all your men live to study you,
And eat you where you live,
Get down.
Your table is green,
Too collect my things,
The harvest of every men,
Is in the can.
A strand in your hand,
Where all your men live to study you,
And eat you where you live,
Get down.
Song Info
Submitted by
crookedrain On May 28, 2004
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