Rust in the Filter

Kill the power, spin the plastic housing tight

Pull the orange cylinder into the early light

Black silt, heavy water,

dripping on the floor

Wash the mud away and lock the cellar door (hmmmmm)

The well don't apologize It just gives you what's down there

(oh yeah)

There's a sour taste that seeps up through the years

I'm filtering the poison,

drying out the tears

I keep the bitter stuff from showing on my face

While the rust-stains gather in the quiet place

The well don't apologize

It just gives you what's down there

Clear water's just a temporary thing

Until the next monthly replacement that I bring

The iron keeps on rising,

that's the only deal

Changing out the cartridge is the only peace I feel

(the well don't apologize...)