| 歌曲 | Muck and Mire |
| 歌手 | Brown Bird |
| 专辑 | The Devil Dancing |
| I must drag my body through the muck and mire | |
| Gather branches for it’s funeral pyre | |
| Twigs I would rather twist into nests | |
| Or whittle wooden wings and fly | |
| But they said, hey oh dig another well | |
| The water reeks of sulfur and it’s red as hell | |
| Oh oh rip the curbing all away | |
| Throw the wood on the funeral pyre | |
| I’d call on my lord but he can’t help me now | |
| I’d fall on my sword if I only knew how to believe there’s nothing above | |
| Only absence of breath, of hatred and love | |
| But it was born into me and if I can’t burn it out | |
| I’ll forge all my swords into blades of a plow | |
| And toil all my days in those fields of fire | |
| And I will welcome those flames in a funeral pyre | |
| I must drag my body through the muck and mire | |
| Gather branches for it’s funeral pyre | |
| Twigs I would rather twist into nests | |
| Or whittle wooden wings and fly | |
| But they said, hey oh dig another well | |
| The water reeks of sulfur and it’s red as hell | |
| Oh oh rip the curbing all away | |
| Throw the wood on the funeral pyre | |
| We file down our fangs on the bones of our foes | |
| And curse their names with blood swollen tongues | |
| We file down our hearts on the kindness of friends | |
| Pick them up and cut them down again |
| I must drag my body through the muck and mire | |
| Gather branches for it' s funeral pyre | |
| Twigs I would rather twist into nests | |
| Or whittle wooden wings and fly | |
| But they said, hey oh dig another well | |
| The water reeks of sulfur and it' s red as hell | |
| Oh oh rip the curbing all away | |
| Throw the wood on the funeral pyre | |
| I' d call on my lord but he can' t help me now | |
| I' d fall on my sword if I only knew how to believe there' s nothing above | |
| Only absence of breath, of hatred and love | |
| But it was born into me and if I can' t burn it out | |
| I' ll forge all my swords into blades of a plow | |
| And toil all my days in those fields of fire | |
| And I will welcome those flames in a funeral pyre | |
| I must drag my body through the muck and mire | |
| Gather branches for it' s funeral pyre | |
| Twigs I would rather twist into nests | |
| Or whittle wooden wings and fly | |
| But they said, hey oh dig another well | |
| The water reeks of sulfur and it' s red as hell | |
| Oh oh rip the curbing all away | |
| Throw the wood on the funeral pyre | |
| We file down our fangs on the bones of our foes | |
| And curse their names with blood swollen tongues | |
| We file down our hearts on the kindness of friends | |
| Pick them up and cut them down again |