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