Big Sewell Mt
Jason Molina
Wrap no cotton shrouds
You’re champion around
Right now the world suffers for you
Suffering for you
Set myself down on the frozen ground at dawn
Pointed myself with my back to the sun
And thus were his eyes, his hands spoke misfortune
And these are his words, that brought me through my sickness
If I were my hands
If I were my hands
I’d choke out these words
I’d choke out these words
My dying breath
Set yourself down on the dewy ground at dawn
And there point yourself with your back to the sun
