I'm no longer the newborn,nLord, that's all I know is true. nI've returned from the ocean,nCradling the Denver boot.nnAnd bare feet walk the hills of Fr'isco!nSoft boys, cut your eyes to me. nThe truth is I let down my father. nI throw my boots back in the water. nThey are hollow. They are hollow. nnAt that dead goat farm, outside Denver,nFather was living in his broken-down coop.nThe Helling hail came in a bad way. nHis body revenged as he asked for the truth. nI cradled my father in my arms. nWith my nails, I scraped the sick away. nI put my nail clips in a bottle,nA trophy on the dash, but when the sun shines through the bottle,nIt is hollow! It is hollow!nnI can't wear the Denver boot. nI can't wear the Denver boot. nI can't wear the Denver boot. nI can't wear...nnI will bronze my father's body;nMount it otuside my factories. nThe first will be a see-through glassworks. nThe other will be a true goat farm.nAnd I will blow perfect bottles. nAnd I will squeeze the goats myself.nI will gouge the world of its Helling.nI hope my will don't come up hollow. nHollow...nHollow...nn[repeat hollow until song's end]