Keep quiet, I said
Why do we have to find a reason?
You brush the war paint off my skin
And since you are a praying man, well
I suggest we ask to stop the bleeding

'Cause all this small town ammunition
Oh, it weighs down like a fog
And they're all chalked up and just spitting dust
All over our hands
And I wash them clean again

This town's made up of lepers from the same cup
Poison the wells and rake the coals
It's such a scheme
That leaves me tired and exposed

All this small town ammunition
Oh, it weighs down like a fog
But they're all chalked up and just spitting dust
All over our hands
And I wash them clean again

My heart is burning with every urge to take the next train
But what's the point of bruising for saints
Tryin to keep a good man new

So, keep quiet, I said
Why do we have to find a reason?
You brush the war paint off my skin
Blankets of irons hang over our heads
Over our heads