Come to my house an we'll pick bones
Their hands outside ready with stones
Come to my yard
I got whiskey an' chairs
We'll hang on the porch
As the good men stare

You ain't never spoke true
I shake an angry fist at you
You are not needed here
[ From: http://www.elyrics.net ]
To help me feel low down
I'm doin' it fine all on my own

I hear you cryin' from cradle to coffin
An' for you there'll be no stoppin'
I see you lyin' in a pine box with bitter words
That's how the boy talks

Songwriter(s): David Eugene Edwards, Keven Mark Soll, Jean-yves Tola
Copyright: Shametown Music, Wb Music Corp.
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