I went down the road to see my old man this morning
Sat down beside his bed
He woke up and said, "Son, good morning"
I put a pillow behind his head
We talked about him and all his friends
We talked about now and what he did back then
We talked about life, we talked about death
Then he grabbed me by the arm and said
"Son, don't bury me in no pinstriped suit
On my feet put my working boots
On my back a blue collared shirt
An old pair of coveralls and a fistful of dirt
Son, all I ask of you, is don't bury me in no pinstriped suit"
Born and raised on the hard side of a steel town
With burning fires and mountains of black coal
All alone is where he lives now
With calloused hands and a broken heart of gold
He still talks about time that he never spent
And all the angry words he wished he'd never said
And all the little things in life he regrets
He still grabs me by the arm and says
"Son, don't bury me in no pinstriped suit
On my feet put my working boots
On my back a blue collared shirt
An old pair of coveralls and a fistful of dirt
And son, all I ask of you, is don't bury me in no pinstriped suit"
Son, all I ask of you
Don't bury me in no pinstriped suit