Johnny Cash Rides His Coal Car Through Purgatory
Someday they'll lay you out at peace
You died of old age, not VD
You weren't the type to overdose
Or stick a shotgun down your throat
You might think that you've got it made
For your existence past the grave
You weren't a saint, but far from monster
Perhaps you could have had it wrong
It's always hard to live up
To standards that Man-Gods hold up
He promises that you'll get forgiveness
But never said you'd get it NOW
Your mamma never taught you this
'Cause you weren't brought up Catholic
That every action has a price
That you must pay for when you die
'Cause Heaven's only for the pure
Not for shut-ins soiled with porn
You need some time to work the filth off
Harvesting children in the mines
A place where nothing really grows
Quite well enough to make you whole
Not wholly bad, but it could use improvement
Who'd fill a Koi pond up with toads?
And every Limbo boy and girl
Slightly unfit for gates of pearl
Wake up for work every morning
To fill the hoppers up with souls
Not the worst job you've ever had
But still, the distance keeps you sad
Though every day still gets you closer
To the so long promised reward
And though Luther doesn't believe it
You load the cars with the unborn
To send them up for distribution
Upon the loving breath of God
Some say the worst job in the place
Is held by the one who drives the train
'Cause only they see what they're truly missing
But aren't allowed to hang around
Someday they'll lay you out at peace
You died of old age, not VD
You weren't the type to overdose
Or stick a shotgun down your throat
You might think that you've got it made
For your existence past the grave
You weren't a saint, but far from monster
Perhaps you could have had it wrong
It's always hard to live up
To standards that Man-Gods hold up
He promises that you'll get forgiveness
But never said you'd get it NOW
Your mamma never taught you this
'Cause you weren't brought up Catholic
That every action has a price
That you must pay for when you die
'Cause Heaven's only for the pure
Not for shut-ins soiled with porn
You need some time to work the filth off
Harvesting children in the mines
A place where nothing really grows
Quite well enough to make you whole
Not wholly bad, but it could use improvement
Who'd fill a Koi pond up with toads?
And every Limbo boy and girl
Slightly unfit for gates of pearl
Wake up for work every morning
To fill the hoppers up with souls
Not the worst job you've ever had
But still, the distance keeps you sad
Though every day still gets you closer
To the so long promised reward
And though Luther doesn't believe it
You load the cars with the unborn
To send them up for distribution
Upon the loving breath of God
Some say the worst job in the place
Is held by the one who drives the train
'Cause only they see what they're truly missing
But aren't allowed to hang around
