The Old Gospel Choir - Modern Baseball

There’s a tombstone in the brush

With your name on the front

But I had no bucks to get «Here lies They-Ran-Outta-Luck»

On the back of it

Sharp as a tack, but in the sense

That you’re not smart, just a prick

In my finger or my toe, ripping staggered holes

All the way to my chest

All the way to my chest

But every tremble in your voice still echoes in my ears

One good night of sleep per year

There’s a tombstone in the brush

With my name on the front

But I had no guts to get «Here lies He-Ran-Outta-Luck»

On the back of it

Sharp as a tack, but in the sense

That I’m not smart, just a prick

In the fingers and the toes

Of all of those who show interest in me

And from where I’m standing

It looks like I’m way long overdue

I know what you meant when you said, «Fuck you»

Breaking up never felt so cruel

And now, I’m tired, and now, I’m dead to me

Can we act like we never broke each other’s hearts?

At least mine—I don’t know how you felt from the start

Oh, that’s vile, oh, I’m cruel, oh, it’s goddamn mean

I sure as Hell know one thing:

You sure ain’t dead to me