Slim Cessna's Auto Club - Sour Patch Kids lyrics

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 in 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 gives 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 dessert 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 work 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….)