Swampland - The Birthday Party

Quicksand, I’m in it’s grip

Quicksand, I’m in it’s grip

A sinken in the mud

Patron saint of the bog

They come with boots of blood

With pitchfork and with club

And they’re chantin' out my name

And they got doggies screamin' on a chain

Lucy, I’ll love you till the end

They hunt me like a dog

Down in swamp land

So come my executioner

Come my bounty hunter

Come my county killers

I cannot run no more

I cannot run no more

I cannot run no more

No, I can’t, no

Oh, Lucy, you won’t see this face again

When I caught you swing and burn

Down in swamp land

The trees are veiled in fog

The trees are veiled in fog

Like so many jilted brides

Hey and now they’re all breakin' down and cryin'

Splashing tears upon my face

Splashing tears cold upon my face

And they smell of gasoline, I scream

Lucy, you made a sinner right out of me

And now I’m burnin' like a saint

Down in swamp land

So come my executioner

Come my bounty hunter

Come my county killers

I cannot run no more

I cannot run no more

I cannot run no more

I cannot run no more

No, I can’t

Down in swamp land