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Coming through town like a big ole bad man,
Stomping you down with his big brown shoes,
Kicking around an empty bottle,
Shaking the ground with every move,
Stands above our teenage birch tree,
Giant, a poet, and a traveler, too,
Big straw hat and a can of tobacco,
Chewing away his blues.
Yellow brick teeth and a Redwood mustache,
Cannibal clothes, and an eye made of stone,
Legs you can tell have been on an adventure,
Critters of kinds living up his nose,
Carries enough just to get to the next town,
Living along the American road,
Fathers his mother nature moaning,
All the way back home.
Big Boy Smack,
You better get back or he's gonna whack that knapsack,
You've got to know when to fight, and know when to let it go.
Come on let's go,
We better get home before we lose everything we own,
Lets run, run, run as fast as we can go.
You've got to let it go.