On this cold little parcel of land where our father's fathers lived
The same old trees scraping innocent knees since our grandparents were kids
You were born in a terrible storm and your ma said it's a sign
You're never at peace with your bed facing east and your itchy feet like mine
We should change our names and go for guts and glory
Never cut our hair or give a care if we're right
'Cause they've got us by the throat, they've got us on a tight-rope
You can tell your furious father he can have my guts for garters if he likes (Uh oh!)
Verse
Some need like the trunk of a tree to accumulate alone
And in time grow ripe on the vine and I think we might belong
On this cold little parcel of land where our father's fathers lived
We scrape our knees climbing innocent trees like our father's fathers did
We should change our names and go for guts and glory
Never cut our hair or give a care if we're right
'Cause they've got us by the throat, the've got us on a tight-rope
You can tell your furious father he can have my guts for garters if he likes
You can tell your furious father he can have my guts for garters if he likes