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Poor Fractured Atlas

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  • Текст, перевод и аккорды “Poor Fractured Atlas”

  • Hes out in the woods with his squirrel gun To try to recapture his anger Hes screaming some words at the top of his lungs Until he begins to feel younger But back at his desk in the city we find Our trembling punch-drunken fighter Who cant find the strength now to punish the length Of the ribbon in his little typewriter Poor fractured atlas Threw himself across the mattress Waving his withering pencil As if it were a pirates cutlass Im almost certain hes trying to increase his burden He said "thats how the child in me planned it; A woman wouldnt understand it" I believe there was something that I wanted to say Before I conclude this epistle But you would forgive me for holding my tongue cause man made the blade and the pistol Yes man made the waterfall over the dam To temper his tantrum with magic Now you cant be sure of that tent of azure Since he punched a hole in the fabric Chorus A woman wouldnt understand it A woman wouldnt understand it

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