Paroles: Herman Düne. They Go To The Woods.

I got the feeling
Many of us
Don?t see much

I look around
Some things just
Don?t match

The sound of the shotgun
The big black eye of a doe

They go to the woods and
They Hound the deer down
I find it hard to
Put out of my mind

A girl wearing leather
A man feeding a lion
A cap with a feather
Men workin? and buyin?