East of the River Jordan

Like Brooks raised his cane with the rage of a cuckold
Or John Brown in the 'Prelude'
Laying waste to stalemate
Cast off all discretion
Blood drawn, men in parlors appalled
A new savage direction
So rustle up your kin in the afternoon
Red dusk struck a match and we cried out
And so we burn fertile acres into bald hinterland
Muscle up a fe, fi or fo and go mash up the salt to sand
We feign disgrace and cry out "we're trapped in a foreign land."
Landscape erased with a lash of white jowls
So when you run, then you're gone
It's a waste of my time
Hear the blood crier call
The name that retains all creation encircled
Has bestowed to our hands these tools
To raise Cain for the idle
And lay waste to stalemate
Cast off all discretion
Blood drawn in the name of the law
A new savage direction
And so we burn fertile acres into bald hinterland
Muscle up a fe, fi or fo and go mash up the salt to sand
We feign disgrace and cry out "we're trapped in a foreign land."
And when we went down that old road
Never did I buy what I sold
And never did I feel so cold
Landscape erased with a lash of white jowls
When you run, then you're gone
It's a waste of my time
Hear the blood crier call
Bawl down your door
Cut down with a broadside
That leather rein will chew so far into hands
Cut off like a bloodline
That leather rein will chew to the bone