Smokestack on a Graveyard Shack

[good4somethingbum]

Smokestack on a Graveyard Shack ©2016 Robert George BMI

I’m the hermit keeper of a local graveyard
And there’s long forgotten mem’ries that I safeguard
I live simply in a nearby wooden hovel
And I run the back hoe and I work the shovel

All who crawl or fly or walk end up as crow bait
And a lot of lost souls get delayed in heaven’s probate
So I’m satisfied with money I’ve been earning
Cos it keeps the bourbon pouring and the coal stove burning

And the mornings I’ve been given will demand I pay them back
And my days are puffin’ out a smoke stack on a graveyard shack

There are weary cowboys restin’ ‘neath these willows
And they’re quite content with shade and sawdust pillows
Then there’s millionaires in fine hand-crafted caskets
Fate dragged them to hell in velvet-lined hand baskets

Others feel they’re way too righteous or important
To consider that their lifespan could be shortened
But a blessed saint with black lungs from tobacco
Won’t sleep any sweeter than a Harlem crack ho

Are we priceless diamonds or just coal that’s worthless, cold and black
With our daydreams puffin’ through a smokestack on a graveyard shack

So I watch that smoke and spend my days anticipating
Which way I’ll start drifting when my life is dissipating
And I think of what life is and what it isn’t
And if there’s a coffin that can keep my soul imprisoned
There’s just one place on this earth I’m sure I’m bound for
No one wants to die,
But to lease that mansion in the sky
We must get in on the ground floor

So I’ll dig and fill and then make sure the dirt is packed
And Jacob’s ladder is a smokestack on a graveyard shack