Tekster: The Felice Brothers. The Country is Gone.

Your apron is stained
You work every hour of the day
You're bound to get older

Your father's in bed
The cancer's gone to his head
It won't be so long now

He burnt down a barn
They cut off his head, oh and arm
And called him a junkie

Remember the days
When grandpa would take us upstate
To play in the country?

The country is gone
The country is gone
The country is gone
The country's gone