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The Folk Implosion
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End Of Henley
Beautywood, Henley could
The dream was everywhere he looked
Saw a machine in the perfect girl
A factory of static in her eye
Light a fire, on the phone
Talk all night about the way to control
All the pain of the fame
You don't own
And the world we hold
Are you rich enough, are you still in love
Did it fade away or stand
(do what you will)
Did you open up, self destruct
Feel it leave your hands
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(do you want mine, are you holding on)
Choose your crutch, lose your touch
Hold me to break or divide
I'm the poet understood
Who knew he would be
An eagle on a laminated sky
With your faith betrayed, bring it home
Through the hall of the fame
I know you're good, I sing your song
I need to know you feel it (don)
You stole the soul we're taking it back
With a rifle
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