Who
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What do I want with my life now you're gone? I want your ghost gone. What do I want with this wood now that it's sawn? I want the stump gone, And the land it grew on. Oh Black Lagoon, you have my shoe So I go shoeless. I go muddy crawling through. What do I want with my home now that I'm gone? I want the shades drawn And the overgrown lawn. I would gladly abandon a limb in the trap's jaw, Just as long as I crawl on With no trapper to call on. Thorough and true, by stem and root, I know no-one now. Now I say "who?"
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