Dust off that shotgun and raise the alarm
They're coming over the mountain, they're taking the farm
I don't think they're stopping by for afternoon tea
Cause it looks like they just walked straight out of the sea
Draw the curtains, lock all the doors
Bury the rabbit skins under the floor
I can hear the death rattle of the old apple tree
And I wonder if my maker's coming for me
Hand me that shotgun; I'll fill it with lead
And if you take the heart I'll just aim for the head
We'll watch the world explode in a beautiful mess
As the tears run like spiders down your wedding dress
Such a funny time of year out on the old frontier
And only the dead speak of Jesus round here
I hope that in time it will all become clear
Hallelujah