My backyard's a refinery Churnin out black smoke Where I can't breathe One of these days I'm gonna leave And move away from this refinery My grandpa broke his back Twenty long years for a three room shack Back before the old smoke stack Would turn the skies from blue to black My backyard's a refinery Churnin out black smoke Where I can't breathe One of these days I'm gonna leave And move away from this refinery Poppa told me son Things are gonna get better Just as soon as we get enough money to leave Yeah... My backyard's a refinery My daddy passed away And left the place to me Nobody lives past 53 Livin' next door to this refinery Try to tell my son Things are gonna get better Just as soon as we get enough money to leave Yeah... My backyard's a refinery Churnin out black smoke Where I can't breathe Too sick to work Too poor to leave I guess I'm gonna die By this refinery I guess I'm gonna die By this refinery God don't let me die By this refinery