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The Rifle lyrics I've been knockin' on that door in my sleep Fighting the fireplace glow Knockin' on that door in my sleep Fighting the fireplace glow To keep me away To keep me away from home
Papa, get the rifle from its place above the French doors! They're comin' from the woods! Oh! They're comin' from the woods! And mama you're running too Oh! My mama, you're running too Brother, I'm so sorry that you watched the paintings burn
I've been holding onto the gold When letting go would free my hand And I've been tying your tongue in a knot Oh! I've been tying your tongue in a knot To wrap this death To wrap this death in a sheet
Papa, get the rifle from its place above the French doors! They're comin' from the woods! Oh! They're comin' from the woods! And mama you're running too Oh! My mama, you're running too Brother, I'm so sorry that you watched the paintings burn
I can't hide the dirty paths down that carpet anymore There were too many heavy boots There were too many heavy boots There were too many big black boots And there were too many little brown shoes Marching through So I'm counting it to the sky Oh! I'm counting it to the sky And moving back to face the lack of home
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