Introduction

Good evening, folks. We're the Pine Box Boys. These are the tales of the Emancipated Head as it goes rolling down Confusion Hill?

The poet's wife's a widow now, though I don't think no one told her
That recently her husband's head has been freed from it's shoulders
She's likely to grieve a bit, perhaps slip into denial
But by and by she'll profit him his posthumous revival
But that's another story, and another bitter pill
Let us turn instead and watch the head go rolling down the hill
Now it seems to frown, and now it seems to grin
Reversals of expression as it rolls from crown to chin
And what might it be thinking as it rolls on along?
Well, those postmortem dreams are the subjects of these songs
Thirteen tales of terror, it chills me to report
Drawn from a severed mind who's time is running short
And why was that head cut off, you needn't bother asking why
The emancipated poet's head will tell us by and by