4.

Ourland

Terry Allen

© Bukka Cain Music, ASCAP

Yeah ourland is my land her history's a calling me
From the shores of another land that ourland across the sea

Well I fancy a bomb inside my head a ticking for the men
I'll put it in a little cafe and blow 'em to hell again
And I fancy a pistol in my coat loaded for the kill
And we'll gun the ones who run outside I swear by God we will

Because ourland is my land her history's a calling me...

And I fancy a knife inside my pants bone handled razor sharp
And we'll run the ones who survive the blast and cut them in the dark
And I fancy my hands behind the wheel the wounded a laying down
I'll punch the gas and run it fast and grind them in the ground

Because ourland is my land her history's a calling me...
[ instrumental ]
And I fancy their widows under me squealing with delight
So we'll have our fun then when we're done we'll garrote 'em in the night
And we fancy their children a cryin' then we will pat their heads
Then sing them to sleep with a fireman's song then burn them in their beds

Cause ourland is my land her history's a calling me...
Yeah ourland is my land her history's a calling me...

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