BUCKET OF THE DAMNED

Baptized in the sludge, in the mire, in the cold,
A tale of the damned never to be told.
In the swamp, got a water's at my waist,
And the bucket's getting light.
'Cause the shadows and the reeds want to take a little bite.
Outlaw, operator, redneck vendetta.
The deeper I sink, the feeling gets better.
I'm the ghost of the levy, I'm the mud in the vein,
Singing hymns to the rot while I revel in the pain.
Knee-deep, bucket's empty now.
The swamp took it back.