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