Woodcutters Son - Paul Weller

Sugartown has turned so sour

Its people angry in their sleep

There’s more small-town paranoia

Sweeping down its evil sheets

You better give me the chance

I’ll cut you down with a glance

Yeh, with my small axe — so help me

And tho' I’m only one

And tho' weak I’m strong

And if it comes to the crunch

Then I’m the woodcutter’s son

And I’m cutting down the wood for the good of everyone!

You can tell it’s witching hour

You can feel the spirits rise

When the room goes very quiet

And there’s hatred in your eyes

You better give me the chance

I’ll cut you down with a glance

Yeh, with my small axe — so help me

And tho' I’m only one

And tho' weak I’m strong

And if it comes to the crunch

Then I’m the woodcutter’s son

And I’m cutting down the wood for the good of everyone!

There’s a silence when I enter

And a murmur when I leave

I can see their jealous faces

I can feel the ice they breathe

You better give me the chance

I’ll cut you down with a glance

Yeh, with my small axe — so help me

And tho' I’m only one

And tho' weak I’m strong

And if it comes to the crunch

Then I’m the woodcutter’s son