| The north wind blows a prairie fire across the open plain
|
| A light shines on the granite stone where someone carved my name
|
| Sister find the preacherman
|
| Daddy call the law
|
| Things have gotten out of hand
|
| Here in Arkansas
|
| An icy ring around the moon a fire across the sky
|
| They buried me this afternoon and left me here to die
|
| Sister find the preacherman
|
| Daddy call the law
|
| Things have gotten out of hand
|
| Here in Arkansas
|
| Sheriff Clark, Reverend Friend, Mrs. Worthington
|
| Told my family that I’d be the end to all they’ve done
|
| Sister find the preacherman
|
| Daddy call the law
|
| Things have gotten out of hand
|
| Here in Arkansas
|
| Mother raised the children and daddy worked the farm
|
| I was born the seventh son of the seventh born
|
| Sister find the preacherman
|
| Daddy call the law
|
| Things have gotten out of hand
|
| Here in Arkansas
|
| All the elders did decree my soul to be unclean
|
| They strapped me to a gurney and gave me morphine
|
| Sister find the preacherman
|
| Daddy call the law
|
| Things have gotten out of hand
|
| Here in Arkansas
|
| Sister walks into the night and prays my soul to save
|
| And underneath the cold moonlight she finds my open grave
|
| Sister find the preacherman
|
| Daddy call the law
|
| Things have gotten out of hand
|
| Here in Arkansas
|
| The north wind blows a prairie fire
|
| Here in Arkansas |