[Intro] [Low Cello Drone, Squelching 112 BPM Acid Bassline, Plucked Fiddle] (You walked three miles through the brush for that bucket, didn't you?) (And when you drank... tasted like rust and dead roots.) [Chugging Mid-tempo 303 Sweep, Melancholic Violin Melody] Yeah. It has always been this way, friend. Pick up the spade. [Verse 1] [Mid-tempo Acid Groove, Resonant Cello Stabs, Gritty Fiddle Riff] You take the public trail to drink from common stone, Forgetting that the highway never leaves a man alone. The path is full of thieves, the ditch is full of dust, And half the water pulled from there is bitter with disgust. If you desire sweet water when the drought begins to bite, You break the stubborn limestone in the middle of the night! You blister up the palms, you carry out the clay, No easy trick will ever make the heavy quarry pay. And if you need a roof before the winter blizzard screams, You fell the oak yourself and haul the timber to the beams! Or walk so true and honest that your brothers drop their plow, To frame the rafters with you on the rocky mountain brow! [Pre-Chorus] [Acid 303 Resonance Climbing, Driving Fiddle Tremolo, Deep Kick] Nobody gets above the grey by leaning on the fence, The universe demands its tax in labor and expense. You trade your comfort now to buy a sovereign tomorrow— A little sweat today saves twenty years of borrowed sorrow. Three, two, one—dig in! [Chorus] [Explosive 112 BPM Acid Trance Drop, Sweeping Cellos, Roaring Fiddle] If you want the water, you gotta dig the well! Nothing above average has an easy tale to tell! Carve out the shelter or earn the helping hand, Pay the patient sacrifice to anchor in the land! A wry little grin through the grit and the gray: Look at the bones—it has always been this way! (It has always been this way!) (Nobody gifts you the spring!) [Verse 2] [Syncopated Fiddle Chops, Acid Squelch, Warm Cello Counterpoint] Look back across the dust of time, the record never lied, Across the five continents where stubborn elders died. The Andes didn't terrace till the Quechua moved the rock, The Nile didn't irrigate to feed a sleeping flock! The Roman raised the arch and drove the pillar in the mud, Each aqueduct was mortared in discipline and blood. The granaries of Timbuktu, the dikes of Amsterdam, Were never raised by idle men who didn't give a damn! From the rice paddies of the East to northern Nordic cold, Only the ones who bled the fields could turn the seed to gold! [Pre-Chorus] [Rising Acid Filter, Staccato Cello Pulses, Driving Shaker] A wry half-smile, you shake your head, the truth is plain and stark: You cannot borrow kindling if you want to light the dark! A little sweat today saves twenty years of borrowed sorrow! Drop! [Chorus] [Full Acid Trance Peak, Thunderous Strings, Hypnotic 303 Line] If you want the water, you gotta dig the well! Nothing above average has an easy tale to tell! Carve out the shelter or earn the helping hand, Pay the patient sacrifice to anchor in the land! A wry little grin through the grit and the gray: Look at the bones—it has always been this way! [Bridge] [Half-Time Breakdown, Mournful Cello Solo, Ambient Vinyl Hiss, Sub-Bass] (One man with an iron spade can keep his family fed...) (But listen to the dream that wakes the legends from the dead.) To build the grand cathedrals whose spires touch the cloud, Requires a generation far too sacred to be proud! Laying down the cornerstone of towers you won't see, Surrendering your ego for what's yet to come to be! A sight beyond the self, a common heavy load, Where thousands bleed together just to pave the wonder road! [Screaming Acid 303 Riser, Fiddle Reaches High Octave] Raise the stone! [Chorus] [Peak Energy Drop, Galloping Fiddle, Soaring Cello, Acid Trance Chug] If you want the water, you gotta dig the well! Nothing above average has an easy tale to tell! Carve out the shelter or earn the helping hand, Pay the patient sacrifice to anchor in the land! A wry little grin through the grit and the gray: Look at the bones—it has always been this way! [Outro] [Chugging 112 BPM Acid Groove Fading, Soft Cello Plucks, Wry Whisper] Blistered hands... clear water. Timber raised... cold defeated. (Heh... ain't a shortcut in the book, brother.) It has always been this way. [Fiddle Glissando, Acid 303 Filter Closes, Sub Fade-Out]
