I Tore My Hands Off in a Combine - Western Addiction

Talons flex with angry incisors

Left with what I don’t have advice for

Tell my friends I don’t want to see them

Tell my family I don’t want to know them

A gentle crop was the killing line

Shears gone by and it spun like a turbine

Absinthe minded with thrice-like charm

Lonely wrists meet lonely arms

I fought the jaws and the jaws won

Innocent greetings don’t seem like much fun

Dismembered idles for the devil’s work

Thresh and destroy when palms meet till earth

Open ears as my children salute

Up the rows my wife follows suit

Goddamn it, call on the land line

I tore my hands off in a combine

I can never truly hold you

I can never truly hold

Goddamn it, call on the land line

I tore my hands off in a combine

Land mine.

Straight line.

Combine