Annabelle is chasing gravel angels
Mama's counting the lines on her face
In her sleep she has seen herds of black sheep
They are circling [bad word] of disgrace

And boys grow out of [bad word] 
Spin their wheels and turn to dust
On Black Bird Lane, I can hear my mama singing,
"Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah"

Mama she is strong and there's power in her bones
Papa don't talk, he stopped long ago
Annabelle is dreaming, she is chasing down the street
Tiny gravel angels, flying at her feet

And boys grow out of [bad word] 
Spin their wheels and turn to dust
On Black Bird Lane, I can hear my mama singing,
"Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah,
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah"

Annabelle is making dirty coffee
Been living all these years on Black Bird Lane
In her sleep she has seen herds of black sheep
Circling [bad word] of disgrace

Boys grow out of [bad word] 
Spin their wheels and turn to dust
On Black Bird Lane, I can hear my mama singing,
"Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah"