Lyric Woodcutter s Son

Sugartown has turned so sour
its people angry in their sleep
There s more small-town paranoia
Sweeping down its evil sheets -
You can tell it s witching hour
You can feel the spirits rise
When the room goes very quiet
And there s hatred in their eyes -

You better give me the chance
I ll cut you down with a glance
Yeh, with my small axe - so help me,
And tho I m only one
And tho weak I m strong
And if it comes to the crunch
Then I m the woodcutter s son

And I m cutting down the wood for the
good of everyone!

There s a silence when I enter
And a murmur when I leave
I can see their jealous faces
I can feel the ice they breathe