Wool catches dew
Knives sharpened
On stones
Dirty palms
Cup streams to lips
Smoke scented
Tools
I want to practice bushcraft
And leave this shit behind
I want to practice bushcraft
And leave this fucking shit
Fuck your city planning
You clones are too demanding
Your hopes are set as high
As these yuppies' fucking homes
I'll fall trees for shelter
Eat foraged food forever
And sleep next to fires
And breathe the open air
Machetes chop Wool catches dew Knives sharpened On stones Dirty palms Cup streams to lips Smoke scented Tools I want to practice bushcraft And leave this shit behind I want to practice bushcraft And leave this fucking shit Fuck your city planning You clones are too demanding Your hopes are set as high As these yuppies' fucking homes I'll fall trees for shelter Eat foraged food forever And sleep next to fires And breathe the open air Explain Request ×
Lyrics taken from
/lyrics/b/baptists/bushcraft.html