Who'll build a box for Black Paul?Ah'm enquirin on behalf of his soulAh'd be beholdin to ya allFor a lil information, just a little indicationJust who'll dig the hole?When ya done ransackin' his roomgrabbin any damn thing that shines,throw the scraps down on the streetLike all his books and his notes.All his books and his notes andAll the junk that he wrotethe whole fucken lot right up in smokeAin't there nuthin sacred anymoreWon't someone will build a box for Black Paul?And their shootin off his gunsand their shootin off their mouthssaying '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-wallBlack-puppet, go to sleep, ma-ma won't scold ya anymore
Armies of ants, wade up the lil red streamsthey're headin for the mother-poolO lord, it's cruel! O man it's hot! O man it's hot andAnd some of them ants they just climb to the spotWho threw the first stone at Black Paul?
'Don't ask us', say the critics and the hacksThe 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 nailOr 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 thicketsCome 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 Deathup, up, up, up, inhale its breathO 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 aroundAnd all the old widows weeping into their skirtsAnd all the lil gals and the lil BoysAnd the scribes with their pens poisedAll the hullaballoo, all the norseAll the hullaballoo, all the noiseAll the hullaballoo, all of the noiseclears his throat of black bloodsingin Black Paul like a lonely boy...
We-e-e-ll, ah have cried one thousand tearsAh've cried a thousand tears, its trueAnd 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 downAnd heaven yes ain't heavenWithout that lil girl hangin around
Well, ya know ah've beenn a bad-manand Lord knows ah done some good things tooBut ah confess, my soul will never restUntil you've, until you've buildUntil you've built a box for my gal, too.my gal, toomy gal, too