Your world is in flames there ain't even a name
for the feelings you feel as you watch it all burn.
there's a girl in the distance, she's calling your name,
but the name that she's calling is not your name, she calls:
The word-mule! the word-mule! the word-mule!
but he's plowing the field...
the word-mule! the word-mule! the word-mule!
but he's plowing the field...
And you can't walk on that water, i know 'cause i tried.
it's our spider web-thinking, it's just too heavy with holes.
and our thoughts they are made up of red georgia clay,
we think we know everything, but man we don't know:
The word-mule! the word-mule! the word-mule!
but he's plowing the field...
the word-mule! the word-mule! the word-mule!
but he's plowing the field... here come the word-mule!
My friends,
look out for hustlers for preachers for sheisters,
them silver-tongued saints who pretend to do good,
'cause they?re geeks biting chicken-heads off with their witty rejoinders they ain't nothing but greasy fast food for:
The word-mule! the word-mule! the word-mule!
but he's plowing the field...
the word-mule! the word-mule! the word-mule!
but he's plowing the field...