Testo: Mountain Goats, The. Chilean Fire Barrel.

smell of sulfur, cloven hoof,

birds were gathering on the roof.

faint voices, scratching sounds.

if this keeps up, i may never come down.

by the time i snapped out of it, there was nothing left.

by the time i snapped out of it, there was nothing left.

by the time i snapped out of it, you were long gone.

by the time i snapped out of it, you were long gone.



spinning numbers, shepherd songs,

birds singing all the time -- all wrong.

aunt margaret, cotton-eyed joe,

they swear they're my friends, but i don't think so.



by the time i snapped out of it, there was nothing left.

by the time i snapped out of it, there was nothing left.

by the time i snapped out of it, you were long gone.

by the time i snapped out of it, you were long gone.