1. Wicked Weed


It spreads out, all through the Midwest
I take it out try, do my best
But it grows just about everywhere
Woods and prairies, it don't care

It creeps out on to the land
With His honeysuckle friend on hand
Takes everything that needs to be free
The natives with their need to seed

So to save and protect of what still matters
I pull out my buckthorn blaster

I have it with me, wherever I go
Thru the rain, cold, and winters snow
In My back pocket, Hope it don't bleed
I take it out when I feel the need

I push on to the roots until they die
When I'm done there's no where to hide
I walk among the spiders and snakes
Help our Mother of whatever it takes

And when it becomes a cancer disaster
I pull out my buckthorn blaster

So when I look upon this land
I think of those native Indians
Harmony can be more than just good music
its in the earth and how you use it.

so when I play this fender Stratocaster
I'll still use my buck thorn
My buckthorn,
My buckthorn,

but while I'm out there among the golden asters