I dig, and I dig. And I dig all day.
As the sun comes up and down.
It rots and falls away.
I dig, and I dig. And I dig all day.
Turning their loss into my found.
Your family forgot to visit last year.
(They're never coming, they're never coming back)
They left a treasure six feet below
(Know I'm going, I know I'm going low)
To a critic, I'm a cynic.
But I only take what I need.
I dig, and I dig. And I dig all day.
Gettin' dirt on my brand new suit.
Well, it's a little used.
I dig, and I dig. And I dig all day.
Wigs look better with human hair.
Gold melts down to ten bones an ounce.
(Gotchya necklace, gold watch, gold teeth)
Dead hands grasp oh so desperately.
(Hold on to, to that diamond ring)
Civil war medals on my mantel proudly displayed.
(Finders keepers, losers weepers)
To a critic, I'm a cynic.
But I only take what I need.
I'll take your picture and put it in a frame.
Decaying flowers, I need some water.
Open coffins, Wal-Mart "For Sale" bins.
Specializing in bright, sunny "bedroom rock español," this Brooklyn singer-songwriter puts a unique spin on lo-fi music. Bandcamp New & Notable Jan 18, 2024