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Who`ll build a box for Black Paul?

Ah`m enquirin on behalf of his soul

Ah`d be beholdin to ya all

For a lil information, just a little indication

Just who`ll dig the hole?

When ya done ransackin` his room

grabbin any damn thing that shines,

throw the scraps down on the street

Like all his books and his notes.

All his books and his notes and

All the junk that he wrote

the whole fucken lot right up in smoke

Ain`t there nuthin sacred anymore

Won`t someone will build a box for Black Paul?

And their shootin off his guns

and their shootin off their mouths

saying `Fuck with us ... and die!`

`Fuck with us ... and die!`

(Let`s see that rat of fear go scuttle in their skulls)

`Cover that eye! Cover that frozen eye!`





Black-puppet, in a heap up against the stoning-wall

Black-puppet, go to sleep, ma-ma won`t scold ya anymore





Armies of ants, wade up the lil red streams

they`re headin for the mother-pool

O lord, it`s cruel! O man it`s hot! O man it`s hot and

And some of them ants they just climb to the spot

Who threw the first stone at Black Paul?





`Don`t ask us`, say the critics and the hacks

The pen-pushers and the quacks

`We jes cum to git dah facks!`

`We jes cum to git dah facks!`

Hey, hey, hey, hey...





Here is the hammer, that built the scaffold,

and built the box...

Here is the shovel, that dug the hole,

in this ground of rocks...

And here is the pile of stones!

and for each one planted, God only knows,

a blood-rose grown...

These are the true Demon-Flowers!

These are the true Demon-Flowers!

Stand back everyone! Blood-black everyone!





Who`ll build a box for Black Paul?

Who`ll carry it up the hill?





`Not I`, said the widow, adjusting her veil

`Ah will not drive the nail

Or cart his puppet-body home,

For ah done that one hundred times before,

Yeah! ah done that one hundred times or more,

And why should ah dress his wounds?

When he has wounded my dress, nightly,

Right across the floor`





Who`ll build a box for Black Paul?

Who`ll carry it up the hill?

Who`ll bury it in the black-soil?

And from the woods and the thickets

Come the ghosts of his victims

`We love you!`

`Ah love you!`

`and this will not hurt a bit,

Outta my eyes was your rise to full glory Spring up from the

corp(??) of life we`ll go up, up, up, up, up into Death

up, up, up, up, inhale its breath

O yes, Death favours those that favor Death`





Here is the stone, and this is the inscription it bare:

`Below Lies Black Paul, Under The Upper...

But Above and Beyond The Surface-Flat-Fall There.`





And all the angels come on down,

And all you men and women crowd around

And all the old widows weeping into their skirts

And all the lil gals and the lil Boys

And the scribes with their pens poised

All the hullaballoo, all the norse

All the hullaballoo, all the noise

All the hullaballoo, all of the noise

clears his throat of black blood

singin Black Paul like a lonely boy...





We-e-e-ll, ah have cried one thousand tears

Ah`ve cried a thousand tears, its true

And the next stormy night you know,

That ah`m still cryin them for you





Well, ah had a gal she was so sweet,

Red dress, and long red hair hangin down

And heaven yes ain`t heaven

Without that lil girl hangin around





Well, ya know ah`ve beenn a bad-man

and Lord knows ah done some good things too

But ah confess, my soul will never rest

Until you`ve, until you`ve build

Until you`ve built a box for my gal, too.

my gal, too

my gal, too

Who`ll build a box for Black Paul?

Ah`m enquirin on behalf of his soul

Ah`d be beholdin to ya all

For a lil information, just a little indication

Just who`ll dig the hole?

When ya done ransackin` his room

grabbin any damn thing that shines,

throw the scraps down on the street

Like all his books and his notes.

All his books and his notes and

All the junk that he wrote

the whole fucken lot right up in smoke

Ain`t there nuthin sacred anymore

Won`t someone will build a box for Black Paul?

And their shootin off his guns

and their shootin off their mouths

saying `Fuck with us ... and die!`

`Fuck with us ... and die!`

(Let`s see that rat of fear go scuttle in their skulls)

`Cover that eye! Cover that frozen eye!`





Black-puppet, in a heap up against the stoning-wall

Black-puppet, go to sleep, ma-ma won`t scold ya anymore





Armies of ants, wade up the lil red streams

they`re headin for the mother-pool

O lord, it`s cruel! O man it`s hot! O man it`s hot and

And some of them ants they just climb to the spot

Who threw the first stone at Black Paul?





`Don`t ask us`, say the critics and the hacks

The pen-pushers and the quacks

`We jes cum to git dah facks!`

`We jes cum to git dah facks!`

Hey, hey, hey, hey...





Here is the hammer, that built the scaffold,

and built the box...

Here is the shovel, that dug the hole,

in this ground of rocks...

And here is the pile of stones!

and for each one planted, God only knows,

a blood-rose grown...

These are the true Demon-Flowers!

These are the true Demon-Flowers!

Stand back everyone! Blood-black everyone!





Who`ll build a box for Black Paul?

Who`ll carry it up the hill?





`Not I`, said the widow, adjusting her veil

`Ah will not drive the nail

Or cart his puppet-body home,

For ah done that one hundred times before,

Yeah! ah done that one hundred times or more,

And why should ah dress his wounds?

When he has wounded my dress, nightly,

Right across the floor`





Who`ll build a box for Black Paul?

Who`ll carry it up the hill?

Who`ll bury it in the black-soil?

And from the woods and the thickets

Come the ghosts of his victims

`We love you!`

`Ah love you!`

`and this will not hurt a bit,

Outta my eyes was your rise to full glory Spring up from the

corp(??) of life we`ll go up, up, up, up, up into Death

up, up, up, up, inhale its breath

O yes, Death favours those that favor Death`





Here is the stone, and this is the inscription it bare:

`Below Lies Black Paul, Under The Upper...

But Above and Beyond The Surface-Flat-Fall There.`





And all the angels come on down,

And all you men and women crowd around

And all the old widows weeping into their skirts

And all the lil gals and the lil Boys

And the scribes with their pens poised

All the hullaballoo, all the norse

All the hullaballoo, all the noise

All the hullaballoo, all of the noise

clears his throat of black blood

singin Black Paul like a lonely boy...





We-e-e-ll, ah have cried one thousand tears

Ah`ve cried a thousand tears, its true

And the next stormy night you know,

That ah`m still cryin them for you





Well, ah had a gal she was so sweet,

Red dress, and long red hair hangin down

And heaven yes ain`t heaven

Without that lil girl hangin around





Well, ya know ah`ve beenn a bad-man

and Lord knows ah done some good things too

But ah confess, my soul will never rest

Until you`ve, until you`ve build

Until you`ve built a box for my gal, too.

my gal, too

my gal, too

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