Hog dangling thick, can't see the right road
Streets are sick, the eight day mill
It might grind slow, but it grinds fine
Indian rope man, wallow can on
Tells common clay, he's heavenly born
Retired layman, looks on and scorn
With a transplanted heart
Kiss him quick, he has to part
Yeah, yeah
Indian rope man, sees the times
Splitting loose, the edge of mind
Catching losers, in his line
In his line, yeah
Kiss him quick, he has to part
Part, yeah, yeah
Indian rope man, flexes his eye
Dissolving the fog, revealing the lie
Indian rope man, holds my strength
In his heart, yeah
Kiss him quick, he has to part
Part, yeah, yeah
Indian rope man, sees all the strife
Cutting down, eternal life
When his soul, transcends his heart
Oh, oh
Kiss him quick, he has to part
Yeah, yeah
