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lyrics

You aint like the others
With their pretty friends
They hold their lovers
While you lie alone inside your bed

Judas likes his money
Midas loves his gold
You wanted everything
Until the wanting left you cold

You'll be stolen
You'll be stolen
You'll be stolen
You were better off with nothing golden

Your heart's as brown as whiskey
Your spirit's just as sour
You aint that pretty
And you don't have any power

But you've got your daddy's money
Yet the girls don't seem to like your clothes
Aint it funny
That you can't buy what you want most?

You'll be stolen
You'll be stolen
You'll be stolen
You were better off with nothing golden

You've come undone,
You're spun,
You're a needle without thread

You drive around,
Aimless,
Getting lost inside your head

Fortunate son,
High strung,
You always get your way

You swear,
Someday,
You'll make them all pay

Well, don't it make you angry?
Don't it make you sick?
You thought you were a vengeful god,
But you're just blowing at a house of brick

Judas loved his money
Midas loved his gold
You wanted everything
But you couldn't even keep your soul

You'll be stolen
You'll be stolen
You'll be stolen
You were better off with nothing golden

You'll be stolen
You'll be stolen
You'll be stolen
You were better off with nothing golden

credits

from Father, Son, & Holy Ghost Meat, track released November 13, 2015
Audrey: Saw, Vocals
Dave: Spoons
Janell: Bass, Vocals
Raleigh: Accordion, Banjo, Guitar, Harmonica, Violins, Vocals
Sam: Washboard, Tambourine, Shaker, Vocals

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