Brown Paper Sacks
© 1982 by Bob Anderson
From: Serpent Power

All my cats, they have fleas; and my flowers, they have bees
All the birds I see, well they seem to have trees
And even the wind has the breeze
So what are ya searchin’ for, as you stand alone by the shore?
Of time and space, lookin’ at the human race
Haven’t you gone down that road before?
Yeah, haven’t you gone down that road before?
    And it all looks so real to me
    But it’s hard to take it seriously!

What would you say if I should ask
Who you are and where are ya’ at?
You’d give me names of all your favorite games
And expect me to respect all that!
I could try to be your friend, but it wouldn’t work out in the end
We don’t think the same, babe, we see from different frames
But I have a shoulder to lend
I have a wounded shoulder to lend
  And I don’t know what you think of me
  But it’s hard to take it seriously!

You carry your life in a brown paper sack
With all your guns and your ratified contracts
When will you stop pretending and just relax?
‘Cuz the heart of my soul you can’t tax!

Yet we seem to remain, the same even through our shame
Searchin’ for fame, playin’ the dangerous game
And always lookin’ for someone to blame
That’s why it’s so hard to relate
To why you store yourself in a crate
Wearing masks made of brown paper sacks
And always tryin’ to debate
You’re always tryin’ to debate fate!
  And I don’t know which version of the world you see
  But it’s hard to take it seriously!

You carry your life in a brown paper sack
With all your guns and your ratified contracts
When will you stop pretending and just relax?
‘Cuz the heart of my soul you can’t tax!
No the heart of my soul you can’t tax!