My backyard’s a refinery
Churnin out black smoke
Where I can’t breathe
One of these days
I'm gonna leave
And move away from this refinery

My grandpa broke his back
Twenty long years for a three room shack
Back before the old smoke stack
Would turn the skies from blue to black

My backyard’s a refinery
Churnin out black smoke
Where I can’t breathe
One of these days
I'm gonna leave
And move away from this refinery

Poppa told me son
Things are gonna get better
Just as soon as we get enough money to leave
Yeah…..

My backyard’s a refinery
My daddy passed away
And left the place to me
Nobody lives past 53
Livin’ next door to this refinery

Try to tell my son
Things are gonna get better
Just as soon as we get enough money to leave
Yeah…

My backyard’s a refinery
Churnin out black smoke
Where I can’t breathe
Too sick to work
Too poor to leave
I guess I'm gonna die
By this refinery

I guess I'm gonna die
By this refinery

God don’t let me die
By this refinery