Where does your misfortune grow?   From a humble house, with a cross burning slow?   You fear she will challenge your throne   So you dig the dirt and it’s selling like gold      10 fingers 10 toes point, but not a damn one back at you    It's your fault you fall apart   The problem is in you      Burn the witch   Or stone and rope to bind her soul   Sink or swim   And watch the truth drown below      You search the hills, swift and true   Look outside yourself, for it cannot be you    The town gathers and slander ensues    Not long ‘til she’s cursed, not long ‘til she’s through      You've done the work of a saint, but with the devil's hand    With cauldron gossip you pray, to restore this land    Holy and dead, holy and dead    Remember the plank?       You've got a tree instead      This will all be over soon   She's melting through   But your dark clouds still remain   So grab another one without a name