Those Poor Bastards
Old Pine Box
I don't want you coming round to see me
Go back into town I wanna think
I don't want to talk about tomorrow
I'm tired of your God-fearing stink
The rain is always leaking through the windows
No one's always knocking on the door
Never had a name they call me trouble
And I don't wanna live here anymore
Throw me in an old pine box
And nail that lid on top
We inherit the sins of our fathers
My daddy was an evil, evil man
I'm proud to say I never really knew him
But I can feel his awful presence in my skin
Who's that yonder crouching in the corner?
Why sir are you hanging from that tree?
What’s that thing scratching 'neath the floorboards?
This town it just don't feel the same to me
Throw me in an old pine box
And nail that lid on top
Brother I have never not been lost
The apples on the tree have turned to rot
And all around I feel the Lord's eyes watching
If you think I'm gonna whimper well I’m not
What ya gonna do come Sunday morning
When everything you see has turned to dust?
Well I just don't believe this shit you're preaching
Forgive me holy father if you must
Throw me in an old pine box
And nail that lid on top
I can't afford to pay for heat this winter
Ice is crawling up and down the walls
If anyone should ever stop to wonder
Just tell 'em no one lives here anymore
Throw me in an old pine box
And nail that lid on top