Sour Patch Kids - Slim Cessna's Auto Club

Come up from the garden, boys

Listen unto me

I’ve got a brand new job for you

A new way to spread your seed

Papa, we’ve been workin'

For 13 years on end

I’ve taught your children the way of seeds

On these we can depend

Lay your shovels in the dirt

Your hands have turned green

I’ll teach ya’s how to hold your mouth

I’ll teach ya how to sing

You know, while you were away

Much rumors came to me

Your faith and prayer has turned us hard

And always left us hungry

Come up from the garden

We don’t want ya anymore

Lay down your shovels

We don’t want ya anymore

Sing from the gospel

We don’t want ya anymore

13 years I walked and roamed

And questioned folk’s desire

I learned it good, cause I wrote it down

They want a gospel choir

Papa, I anticipate

Where your cunning plan do lead

The only way to open our mouths

Is to give us food to eat

Children come on the porch

And let the song begin

There won’t be worries about the food

In that earthly garden

Papa you sure spread it thick

That much we have realized

I would strike you down if you were of good stock

With my garden fertilized

Come up from the garden

We don’t want ya anymore

Lay down your shovels

We don’t want ya anymore

Sing from the gospel

We don’t want ya anymore

Well, you people hear my papa’s pretty, womanly voice?

Well papa, I say enough — we got our own way of singin'

(ba ba ba…)

Children, that song you sing

Has anger, spite and hurt

You sing it well, though it’s gone wild

My leave’s what you deserve

Your nerve, as thick as a city’s ways

To speak of our desert

You planted us with your fallacy

And return to double curse

Now child I’ve got the feeling

That you don’t want to join me

You’re soft on the eyes but hard in the head

Forever you’ll be green

Sir, my temper’s grown worse

Than a joker gone astray

If you don’t come work in your children’s garden

Then with your life, you will pay

Come up from the garden

We don’t want ya anymore

Lay down your shovels

We don’t want ya anymore

Sing from the gospel

We don’t want ya anymore

Well papa, you children here this land you stuck us with

And for us to make it through we had to sing all day to make it bearable

So papa, if you don’t wanna be buried in this here garden

Then you better learn how to hold your mouth like a workin' man does

And sing (ba ba ba…)