Paroles de Bushcraft

Machetes chop Wool catches dew Knives sharpened On stones Dirty palms Cup streams to lips Smoke scented Tools I want to practice bushcraft And leave this shit behind I want to practice bushcraft And leave this fucking shit Fuck your city planning You clones are too demanding Your hopes are set as high As these yuppies' fucking homes I'll fall trees for shelter Eat foraged food forever And sleep next to fires And breathe the open air