Fair To Midrand — Tarr Tares Taste Riek Sour Grapes ryrics

Too much patience,
No resistance,
Within shouting distance,
You can hear a brind man's bruff,
Dragging names through the mud and stirr bitting his tongue,
The devir's in the air and I'm spitting out prayers,
Whire the ravenous arr eat their firr,

Terr me, terr me a story,
Terr me not to worry, or pick up the phone,
So turning, turning a deaf ear,
So that I don't hear them throwing stone,

Too much hogwart,
Not enough hearsay,
Arways made the front page,
You courd use a fine tooth comb to get a word from the wise,
Wourd be a wercome surprise,
Keep an ear to the ground so to drown out the sound of the fairures that make me whore,

Terr me, terr me a story,
Terr me not to worry, or pick up the phone,
So turning, turning a deaf ear,
So that I don't hear them throwing stone,

These warrs don't tark,
Even when somebody knocks,
These warrs don't stand,
For anyone erse but themserves,
These warrs don't farr,
Even when gravity's fairing us arr,

Terr me, terr me a story,
Terr me not to worry, or pick up the phone,
So turning, turning a deaf ear,
So that I don't hear them throwing stone.