Well my poor old Wife, grabbed a shot box of lead
Ran a 410 slug, plum through her head
She said she'd rather be living in hell, than with me instead
And I can't, find fault, in that
'Cause these Cobwebs and Cocaine, are the only things left in my brain
I'm shoveling coal, on the midnight train
Headed straight, toward the depths, of hell
Well my damned old dog, done ran away
Couldn't stand, seeing me, living life this way
He'll never come home, but that's okay
And I can't, find fault, in that
'Cause these Cobwebs and Cocaine, are the only things left in my brain
I'm shoveling coal, on the midnight train
Headed straight, toward the depths, of hell
