Mm, mm
Mm, mm

Well you live
In a tiny bungalow
With a dutch wooden door
And a pot belly stove

You wear Malboro boots and buck-skin 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 them 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

Mm, mm
Mm, mm

Heard you're half 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

You're like a paper mountain man
You're like a paper mountain man