[bad word] to my house an we'll pick bones
Their hands outside ready with stones [bad word] to my yard, I got whiskey an' [bad word] 
We'll sit on the porch as the good men stare

You ain't never spoke [bad word]  I shake an angry fist at you
You are not needed here to help me feel low down
I'm doin' it fine all on my own, yeah, yeah

I hear you cryin' from cradle to coffin
An' for you there'll be no stoppin'
See you lyin' in a pine box with bitter words