Roundhouse Swing (Acoustic)

I turn my back on the roundhouse swing, where the folks all laugh half as proud as sin

To know your past is to turn your map around

And all I have could be everything. Can any man with a chance in green come lay that path from an ancient, faded dream

It seems we're in some messy stage where all's insane, and all you'll make are late mistakes

Say you can't explain it, as they can't contain it

So you call them that, though you know their names. I heard those slaps, and they smacked of shame

All the pain he trapped had lashed like bastard rain

The roundhouse swing, where love gets cuffed to its upbringing.

It's enough to steer you back the years once veering onto primal fear.

As the roundhouse swing strings everything