I born in a town that the industry built in the tired dirt of the Tidewater

To a hard headed man who had the good luck to marry a decent man's daughter

And from my earliest days I could tell things were bad-

President's they were resigning.

And I was raised by the Graves



I wore my brother's close because our house it was cold

With a cry of "pennies make dollars"

And we settled down so far from that down

That God only knows if you holler.

And on the back of the farm there was an old graveyard

Where I used to play as a child.

And I was raised by the graves.



Well I struck out at home and I went on my own into a world that has already past me

And I married a woman a lot like my mom and I act a lot like my daddy.

But when its time to go home I'll head back to the farm

Where the names will all be familiar.

Because I was raised by the graves.