Lyrics

[Verse]
In a little wooden shack, down a dusty old road,
Lives a man with a secret he seldom shows.
Everywhere he goes, folks whisper and laugh,
'Cause he can't stop talkin' 'bout his prolapse.

[Chorus]
It's prolapse this, and prolapse that,
From the barstool talks to his worn-out hat.
He weaves his tales by the fire’s warm glow,
About a pain that only he seems to know.

[Verse]
Down at Mary's diner, you can hear him start,
With a sigh and a groan, that comes from the heart.
Old Timmy rolls his eyes, Sally tries not to snap,
But the man just can't help sharing 'bout his prolapse.

[Chorus]
It's prolapse this, and prolapse that,
From the barstool talks to his worn-out hat.
He weaves his tales by the fire’s warm glow,
About a pain that only he seems to know.

[Bridge]
Maybe it’s the loneliness, or the search for relief,
Or the way that pain burrows deep in his belief.
A struggle unseen, wrapped in his prose,
In the heartland of sorrow, that only he knows.

[Verse]
Neighbors nod politely, avoid his gaze,
They’ve heard the stories in a hundred different ways.
But he's a man of sorrow, with a burden on his back,
Chasing shadows of comfort, for his prolapse, oh black.