I spent all our time in basements looking for a sound
Occupied a church hall just outside of town
My friend had a twin and I had some old no-name strat
And our drummer's dad was cool, he let us come over and practice
Pedal boards and power chords, tape deck on the stairs
Gave up talking to the Lord, but the devil heard my prayers
Got a little older and I moved out into a room
With a cutaway guitar and I was homesick for the moon
So I hired on with a rogue crew like a hinge without a door
I got an old Econoline and put the pedal to the floor
And we were unrepentant trouble, cynical and self-righteous
Black labels and black labels, black labels and black labels
And the moonlight underneath the ancient cypress
And they make off with what you sow
What you can't reap, but you still owe
guitar solo
Got a little older and I moved out into a room
Got a little older, dilated in the woods
Fancy myself some philosopher, but I was only ever good
Washing dishes at the cafe, playing bass out on the weekend
Sleeping till noon every day, never calling back my friends
And I couldn't make the cut, but I could make a bad impression
Never calling back my friends, never calling back my friends
It's only once you've lost enough you get to learn the lesson
And they make off with what you sow
What you can't reap, but you still owe
guitar solo
guitar solo
guitar solo
guitar single
know my handiwork doesn't sound all that correct woods a little warped resistors out of spec
but you can string up a slab of pine with some 30 watt 110 and i used to be somebody i just don't
remember when so back down to the basement my foolish pride and me i keep it dimed in two
four time and i offer up a plea they make off with what you sow but you can't reap what you still owe
you