Paper Mountain Man

Well you live in a tiny bungalow
With a Dutch wooden door and a pot belly stove
You wear Marlboro boots and buckskin jackets
Sewn by the love of your many ladies' hands

You've been called ahead
You've been called to bed
You've been called be-damned
But we'll shake your hand
You're like a paper mountain man

You live ten telephone poles and two trees
Up a dirt road outside the city line
You like delicate ladies with real fine skin
You'll touch 'em, but you'll never love
That's the way you've always been

You've been called ahead
You've been called to bed
You've been called be-damned
But we'll shake your hand
You're like a paper mountain man

Heard tell you're half a raccoon and half horse trader
Taking time to key your life biased high
You're wearing curly hair, teasing round your ears
With a heavy booted walk tapping low funk blues

You've been called ahead
You've been called to bed
You've been called be-damned
But we'll shake your hand
You're like a paper mountain man...