[Intro – Crooked banjo picking, scratchy upright bass, distant shovel scraping gravel, warped carnival organ wheezing in the background. Vinyl crackle and an occasional hollow wooden knock] [Verse 1 – Smug, gravelly male vocals, half-sung with a wicked grin. Lazy swinging drums, dirty acoustic strumming, dry slapback echo] Life ain't great, but life ain't hard, Make my living at the old bone yard. Got my shovel, got my rake, Planting stiffs is give and take. [Low distorted guitar creeps in, rattling chains, bass becomes thick and rubbery] I plant em deep to keep em cold and fresh, Never mess with crematoriums— Too much bone and ash. [Pre-Chorus – Sudden drum stop, call-and-response vocals, descending pitch shift, huge theatrical reverb] GOING UP?! GOING DOWN?! OOOOOOHHHH, DOWN! [Chorus – Explosive crooked garage-rock stomp, fuzz guitar, pounding floor toms, deranged gang vocals, honky-tonk piano, gritty vocal doubles] I'm the farmer! Mr. Farmer! Treasures to be found, Waiting for the next time 'round. [Comical organ stab, distorted bass slide] I'm the farmer! Mr. Farmer! What's that sound?! Something clawing up through the ground! [Short instrumental break – Detuned banjo riff, clattering percussion, warped tape echo, sinister bass chuckle] [Verse 2 – Bouncy walking bass, dry snare, sardonic crooning, distant ghostly harmonies] Got a row for lovers, a row for friends, A little plot for the bitter ends. I buried each one good and deep, But ain't a single one asleep(oh no). [Whispered vocal doubles, reverse reverb, low organ pulses, scratchy guitar] I go digging for a little gold, Find the same old stories told. I pack 'em down beneath the clay, But not a damn one stays away... [Pre-Chorus – Music cuts out, shovel strikes metal, vocals bounce between stereo channels, grotesque descending harmonies] GOING UP?! GOING DOWN?! OOOOOOHHHH, DOWN! [Chorus – Full distorted garage band, stomping drums, rattling tambourine, gang shouts, overdriven organ and manic banjo] I'm the farmer! Mr. Farmer! Treasures to be found, Waiting for the next time 'round. I'm the farmer! Mr. Farmer! What's that sound?! Something clawing up through the ground! [BRIDGE – Instruments collapse into a creepy vaudeville shuffle. Plucked bass, skeletal rimshots, detuned saloon piano, exaggerated whisper-to-growl delivery] stuff em in a box and bury them for weeks dig em back up when their bullshit reeks [Drums accelerate, fuzz guitar snarls, eerie high-pitched backing laughter] might get a morsel, might get a bite, a tasty little memory tonight [Sudden silence, then an enormous echoing vocal wail] ooooooooooh! noooooo! [Pre-Chorus – Thunderous floor toms, pitch-bent vocals, hysterical gang shouts, tape saturation, instruments dropping out one by one] GOING UP?! GOING DOWN?! OOOOOOHHHH, DOWN! Life ain't great, but life ain't hard, Make my living at the old bone yard. Got my shovel, got my rake, Planting stiffs is give and take. I'm the farmer! Mr. Farmer! Treasures to be found, Waiting for the next time 'round. [Comical organ stab, distorted bass slide] I'm the farmer! Mr. Farmer! What's that sound?! Something clawing up through the ground! [Outro – Detuned banjo plays the opening riff, shovel scraping dirt, wheezing organ fades, one final hollow knock, abrupt tape stop]
