Brown Bird - Muck and mire

I must d^Grag my body through the muck and mire Gather^Am branches for its funeral pyre Twigs I w^Gould rather twist into nests Or whittle^Am wooden wings and fly

But they s^Gaid, hey oh dig another well The water r^Ameeks of sulfur and it's red as hell Oh, oh ri^Gp the curbing all away Throw the wood on ^Amthe funeral pyre

^AmI'd call on my lord but he can't help me now I'd fall on ^Fmy sword if I only knew how to believe there's nothing above

But i^Amt was born into me and if I can't burn it out I'll forge all my swords into blades of a plow And ^Ftoil all my days ^Amin those fields of fire And I^G will welcome ^Amthose flames in a funeral pyre

^AmI must dra^Gg my body through the muck and mire Gather^Am branches for its funeral pyre Twigs I w^Gould rather twist into nests Or whittle^Am wooden wings and fly

But they s^Gaid, hey oh dig another well The water r^Ameeks of sulfur and it's red as hell Oh, oh ri^Gp the curbing all away Throw the wood o^Amn the funeral pyre

^AmWe file down o^Fur fangs on the bones of our foes ^GAnd curse th^Ameir names with blood swollen tongues We file down ^Four hearts on the kindness of friends Pick ^Gthem up and cu^Amt them down again