One, two, three, four

I don't think you're in your right mind, baby

But I could never do to you what you're doing to me

Daddy warned me 'bout the black lung

Mama told me what it feels like, hurting to breathe

I don't think that I got any real problems

I heard my best friend's dad drank himself to death

I heard he died with a black lung

I heard he died with a big ol' hole in his chest

I came to you begging and heaving

And you said: Men used to die inside the mines

So who are you to say you're having trouble breathing?

It ain't real, boy, you'll be fine

I haven't ever met the angel of death

Rumor has it he's a real kind son of a bitch

He ain't giving out black lung

He's just waiting by the phone to come and clean up the mess

I think you might kill me

even then I wonder if you'd know why

'Cause you could hold on to a cold hand and say

A tight chest ain't a reason for a man to die

I came to you begging and heaving

And you said: Men used to die inside the mines

So who are you to say you're having trouble breathing?

It ain't real, boy, you'll be fine

I came to you begging and heaving

And you said: Men used to die inside the mines

Who are you to say you're having trouble breathing?

It ain't real

It ain't real

It ain't real

I came to you begging and heaving

And you said: Men used to die inside the mines

So who are you to say you're having trouble breathing?

It ain't real, it ain't real

It ain't real, boy

Oh, oh-oh

It ain't real, boy, you'll be fine