Where does your misfortune grow? From a humble house, with a cross burning slow? You fear she will challenge your throne So you dig the dirt and it's selling like gold 10 fingers 10 toes point, but not a damn one back at you It's your fault you fall apart The problem is in you Burn the witch Or stone and rope to bind her soul Sink or swim And watch the truth drown below You search the hills, swift and true Look outside yourself, for it cannot be you The town gathers and slander ensues Not long 'til she's cursed, not long 'til she's through You've done the work of a saint, but with the devil's hand With cauldron gossip you pray, to restore this land Holy and dead, holy and dead Remember the plank? You've got a tree instead This will all be over soon She's melting through But your dark clouds still remain So grab another one without a name