Seven cousins all in a funeral shed
Black and white, Alive or dead
Are we happy or are we sad
Seven boys in a funeral shed
It was his, smells like dry grass and gasoline
Wanna burn this thing down
But where would your spirit be
If you didn't have an old tin backyard mausoleum
Who's the ghost outside the door
Face bleached white bones hes over exposed
I can just make out our fathers eye
Blessed ghost king dread soul
It was his smells like dry grass and gasoline
Wanna burn this thing down
But where would your spirit be
If you didn't have this old tin backyard mausoleum
ba ba ba ba da ba da ba
All my brothers in the funeral shed
I must confess
I'll watch my father build his final resting place
It was Ingell hall and I was only 6
Have you seen your father build theirs?