My uncle died in a fire on his birthday.
Redneck that he was, burning trash in the yard one day.
On the pile he threw an aerosol can of spray.
And that's how he died in the fire that day.
Before he retired he was a truck driver.
He'd be gone through the winters and all through the summers.
In the winters us kids would order Dominoes and watch Happy Days.
And in the summer we get frogs at the pond and fry up their legs.
My aunt still lives there out in Ohio.
I visit her and the autumn air, she makes me smile.
We remember the story of when I was young.
Getting stung by a hornet, she caressed my foot, rubbed bacon and powder on it.
I was probably five at their home in Nevarn.
My cousin's friend was in the yard playing guitar.
We all gathered round, listened to her play and sing.
And I fell into a trance and knew that one day I'd do the same thing.
My uncle died in a fire on his birthday.
Out by the barn in his old collection of cars.
Third degree burns, a charred up shovel near his hand.
My uncle died a respected man.
I flew out there, I went to his funeral.
It was stormy that day, the sky was deep purple.
And babies were crying, Kentucky Fried Chicken was served.
And that's how he would have wanted it I'm sure.
And after the funeral out there in Nevarn, they all gathered round when I picked up a guitar.
They fell into a trance as I sang and I played.
And outside the frost grew and the mantises prayed and prayed.