One, two, three, four

I don't think you're in your right mind, baby
But I could never do to you what you're doing to me
Daddy warned me 'bout the black lung
Mama told me what it feels like, hurting to breathe

I don't think that I got any real problems
I heard my best friend's dad drank himself to death
I heard he died with a black lung
I heard he died with a big ol' hole in his chest

I came to you begging and heaving
And you said: Men used to die inside the mines
So who are you to say you're having trouble breathing?
It ain't real, boy, you'll be fine

I haven't ever met the angel of death
Rumor has it he's a real kind son of a bitch
He ain't giving out black lung
He's just waiting by the phone to come and clean up the mess
I think you might kill me, even then I wonder if you'd know why
'Cause you could hold on to a cold hand and say
A tight chest ain't a reason for a man to die

I came to you begging and heaving
And you said: Men used to die inside the mines
So who are you to say you're having trouble breathing?
It ain't real, boy, you'll be fine

I came to you begging and heaving
And you said: Men used to die inside the mines
Who are you to say you're having trouble breathing?

It ain't real
It ain't real
It ain't real

I came to you begging and heaving
And you said: Men used to die inside the mines
So who are you to say you're having trouble breathing?

It ain't real, it ain't real
It ain't real, boy

Oh, oh-oh
It ain't real, boy, you'll be fine