Oh, oh, playing solo on the beach
Iwas trying to escape family havoc
I stepped within a breach
It was far too late to walk

The traveler said, move me
I'm buttering my hands
It's not my symphony
But I can take no recourse

Plague lost at the knee
With and without a ground
I just couldn't be
It was far too much to stomach

The traveler said, move me
I'm buttering my hands
It's not my symphony
But I can take no recourse

I killed the deer
The flesh stained from my finger tips
Stomach filled with meat
And I stood in my leather shoes
Guilt or truth or comfort, I must choose

The Sun had faded away
And the suffering she felt within
Washed home holidays
But I didn't strain my feelings

The traveler said, move me
I'm buttering my hands
It's not my symphony
But I can take no recourse

Blame it on the hunt and the squirrel
Blame it on the tide
What about me, am I a slave?
Say it to me, would be lying
I thought I could justify