I born in a town that the industry built in the tired dirt of the Tidewater
To a hard-headed man who had the good luck to marry a decent man's daughter
And from my earliest days I could tell things were bad
President's - they were resigning
And I was raised by the graves
I wore my brother's clothes because our house - it was cold
With a cry of "pennies make dollars"
And we settled down so far from that town
That God only knows if you holler
And on the back of the farm there was an old graveyard
Where I used to play as a child
And I was raised by the graves
Well, I struck out at home, and I went on my own into a world that has already passed me
And I married a woman a lot like my mom, and I act a lot like my daddy
But when it's time to go home, I'll head back to the farm
Where the names will all be familiar
Because I was raised by the graves