He writes these words on your skin You turn your head from him There's always things that can't be said But Joseph holds the key to them He lays these songs on your tongue But it's time to pay for what you've done Your scattered hopes and unpaid debts Are all catalogued in Joseph's head Your brother is drunk here at your side Waiting for your breath of life But how can you sing what you know to be fake? You'll never wash Joseph's mouth off your face So scratch into this dusty wooden stage The history of your bliss and wasted days There is no place to run from Joseph's truth His hands are on your throat, but feeding you May the river tie a rope around your feet And drag your mind and body out to sea Then, paint the sky with colors dug from below The universal mud where Joseph grows