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I'm a, I'm a, I'm a, I'm a chimney sweeping man You see the black lines On the backs, on the backs of my hands I planted all the gardens I sent off all the hand-typed letters to the empty shells on high How I want to make things better, I want to make things better Maybe you thought I'd be president With my Cheshire grin, high I.Q. And charming baby blues Well, I'm a lowland forest resident With lime in the outhouse And black grime for tattoos I try to make things better I try to make things mine I write a lot of letters to pass the time I pulled three hundred rocks From the land to build my house I walk quiet through the forest like a tiny quiet forest mouse 'Cause I'm a, I'm a, I'm a, I'm a chimney sweeping man You see the black lines In the backs, on the backs of my hands I'm a, I'm a, I'm a, I'm a chimney sweeping man You see the black lines On the backs, on the backs of my hands I'm a, I'm a, I'm a, I'm a chimney sweeping man You see the black lines On the backs, on the backs of my hands I'm a, I'm a, I'm a, I'm a chimney sweeping man You see the black lines On the backs, on the backs of my hands I'm a, I'm a, I'm a, I'm a chimney sweeping man You see the black lines On the backs, on the backs of my hands