Oh I've been knocking on that door in my sleep I've been knocking on that door in my sleep Fight my fireplace glow to keep me away, To keep me away from home
Papa get the rifle from its place above the french doors They're coming from the woods Oh they're coming from the woods And mama you're running too Oh my mama your running too Oh my mama your running too
Brother I'm so sorry that you watched the paintings burn And I've been holding onto the gold When lettin' go would free my hands And I've been tying your tongue in a knot Oh I've been tying your tongue in a knot To wrap this death, to wrap this death in a sheet
And Papa get the rifle from its place above the french doors They're coming from the woods Oh they're coming from the woods And mama you're running too Oh, my mama you're running too Oh, my mama you're running too
Brother I'm so sorry that you watched the paintings burn I can't hide the dirty pads down there carpet anymore No, no I can't hide the dirty pads down there carpet anymore There were too many heavy boots There were too many heavy boots There were too many heavy boots And there were too many big black boots And there were too many little brown shoes marching though
So I'm countin' it to the sky Oh I'm countin' it to the sky I'm countin' it to the sky Oh I'm countin' it to the sky