All Chalked Up

"Keep quiet," I said Why do we have to find a reason? You brush the war paint off my skin And since you are a praying man, well I suggest we ask to stop the bleeding Cause all this small town ammunition Oh, it weighs down like a fog And they're all chalked up and just spitting dust All over our hands And I wash them clean again This town's made up of lepers from the same cup Poison the wells and rake the coals It's such a scheme That leaves me tired and exposed All this small town ammunition Oh it weighs down like a fog But they're all chalked up and just spitting dust All over our hands And I wash them clean again My heart is burning with every urge to take the next train But what's the point of bruising for saints Tryin to keep a good man new So, "keep quiet," I said Why do we have to find a reason? You brush the war paint off my skin Blankets of irons hang over our heads Over our heads