[Intro – Spoken over a twangy, distorted guitar] Two hundred years... Two hundred years I've practiced these damn strings. And tonight, big brother... We're gonna settle this! [Fast drums and roaring guitars kick in] [Verse 1] My brother was a legend in a one-horse town, He'd rip a six-string till the rafters came down. I played one solo, he laughed in my face, Said, "Little brother, you'll always take second place!" Then fever took him, and they buried him deep, But his last damn insult wouldn't let me sleep. So I mastered the dark, and I mastered the strings, And two hundred years later, I'm settling things! [Pre-Chorus] I drew the chalk circle, I lit the black flame, I called through the darkness and hollered his name. He rose from the grave, all rattles and dust, Said, "You better have whiskey!" I said, "SHRED OR BUST!" [Chorus] TURN IT UP! RAISE THE DEAD! Got a bone to pick and a riff in my head! Two brothers, six strings, and a score to decide, Even death couldn't bury our family pride! I've had two hundred years to get this right, So pick up that guitar, we're playing tonight! No rest for the wicked, no peace for the blessed, ONE OF US LEAVES HERE SECOND BEST! [Verse 2] He cracked his knuckles, and three fell away, Said, "A little bit rusty, but I still can play!" I summoned a storm and lit up the stage, He tuned his old guitar like he'd never aged. I fired off a solo that scorched all the stones, He answered with a slide made of finger bones! The ghosts started stomping, the headstones all shook, And Grandma crawled out just to give us that look! [Pre-Chorus] I bent every note till the heavens turned red, He grinned with the teeth he had left in his head. Said, "Not bad, little brother, you've finally got speed!" Then he cracked his neck and said, "NOW FOLLOW MY LEAD!" [Chorus] TURN IT UP! RAISE THE DEAD! Got a bone to pick and a riff in my head! Two brothers, six strings, and a score to decide, Even death couldn't bury our family pride! I've had two hundred years to get this right, So pick up that guitar, we're playing tonight! No rest for the wicked, no peace for the blessed, ONE OF US LEAVES HERE SECOND BEST! [Instrumental – Blazing outlaw-country guitar duel, alternating with frantic punk-rock riffs and fiddle] [Bridge – Half-time, gritty country-rock stomp] He played one note, and the night went still, A filthy little bend that could give you chills. No thunder, no demons, no fire in sight, Just a dead man's soul and a guitar played right. I dropped to my knees, said, "THAT AIN'T FAIR! I PRACTICED TWO CENTURIES WHILE YOU WEREN'T THERE!" He said, "You got speed, and you got grit... BUT YOU STILL CAN'T TUNE THAT THING WORTH A SHIT!" [Breakdown – Gang vocals, stomping boots] WHO'S THE KING?! (I AM! I AM!) WHO'S GOT THE RIFF?! (THE DEAD OLD MAN!) WHO HAD TWO CENTURIES?! (I DID! I DID!) WHO STILL LOST?! (YOU DID, KID!) [Final Chorus – Double-time punk explosion] TURN IT UP! RAISE THE DEAD! Got a bone to pick and a riff in my head! Two brothers, six strings, and a score to decide, Even death couldn't bury our family pride! I HAD TWO HUNDRED YEARS TO GET THIS RIGHT! AND THAT DEAD OLD BASTARD STILL WON THE FIGHT! No rest for the wicked, no peace for the blessed, I'M STILL THE BROTHER WHO'S SECOND BEST! [Outro – Fast, chaotic country-punk] I slammed down my guitar and cursed at the sky, Said, "I SHOULD HAVE LET THE GRUDGE LIE?!" He laughed as I shoved him back into his grave, Said, "Keep on practicing, you might get good someday!" [Music cuts abruptly] [Spoken – Necromancer] "...Same time next century?" [Spoken – Dead Brother, muffled from inside coffin] "BRING A TUNER, DUMBASS!" [One final distorted guitar chord]
