Take me up to the waving fields and leave me there
Buried by the hanging tree I never said flee from here
You never spooked me son
It’s rising up to cast out my folded hands
Swinging low to the sweet and shunned
Where the broken bones come down easy
Glory held out, till it’s rising up from our lips
Purged and devoured
Draws the trembling fits
Wake up honey it’s long road that’ll guide you down
To take the pills it’s a short fix
That’ll bring a coward strapped and stunned to an electric chair
Lighting up his blood as his woman stripped bare
On the swinging low of his brother’s stairs
Where she lost her faith in dying
Oh I knew those saints were the first to scorn
Charging out of town, she’s a fleeing whore
Galloping those fields like a dropping sun
Near the tree she fell where my gravestone was
