Bucket, Forks And Pock Lyrics

Bucket, Forks And Pock

Hot steam rising from the door, by the tar road.
Crawdads kicking in the
dirt.
Serious cleavage in pink motels.
(The) preacher's emptying his
bucket.

(Chorus)
Forks in the road
Pock marks in starch-white
shirts.(2x)


Carcass rotting in the yard, by the motel.
(The)
Bayou's washed it on the shore.
Maggots turned up butterflies in the deep
south.
Here I am running from the pulpett.



(Chorus repeated
endlessly).