I’m dead, I ain’t got no roots
The toes are pokin’ through ma boots

I’m deadwood.

But you can’t say that I’ve fallen,
No, ma trunks still a tall ’un.

I’m deadwood.

Lotsa things crawlin’ through me.
The sins, they still choke me
Like the ropes wrapped ‘round a cottonwood tree.

I’m deadwood.

Moss grows on my teeth
And the tears and sweat,
They stick to my cheeks
As thick as sap, clear as dew,

I’m deadwood.

The crack falters my stance.
I’m dried out and now I don’t need me
No chances.

I’m already deadwood.

I’m crooked as the Good Lord’s book.
I asked for mercy, that don’t come to fools
He gave me one look, shook His head

Now I’m deadwood.

I await the day
When the wind no longer makes me sway
But fall down to my knees
And I’ll know what it means
To really plead for Mercy

And I’ll rot like deadwood.

Deadwood.
Deadwood.

But you need a scapegoat like me.
Yeh, this town, it needs it’s enemy.
Feast your eyes on this sorry pack of lies.
Watch yourself.
Watch where this deadwood lies.

See I am the town scapegoat and enemy.
I am the town scapegoat and enemy.
I am the town scapegoat and enemy.
See I am the town scapegoat and enemy.