Lyrics:

I fully understand the shotgun in my pillow Is no uncarved block at hand Life is sweet but not it seems for Buddha There's a shotgun in his hand Shotgun, shotgun, shotgun, shotgun The nature of uncarved blocks Is how to describe what's hard to describe Yeah The simplest things, the quietest The child-like simplicity Everything I need to hear Positive the way I view The simple of thought inherit the earth (shotgun blows) Like Winnie the Pooh, confucianist rules (shotgun blows) Oblivious in what I do (oh) Deliberate the way I live (shotgun blows) (Shotgun blows, shotgun blows, oh, shotgun blows) (Shotgun blows, shotgun blows, oh, shotgun blows) The nature of uncarved blocks Is how to describe what's hard to describe Vinegar taster says The more force I apply, more trouble I make (Is that I cannot describe why it is Such a perfect illustration of the opposite and Complex arrogance we display to protect one another) Think too much, think too much Think too much, think too much