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Wise men say
That a poor mother's child
Lives his life in vain
If he doesn't visit, Lord
The House of Pain

At the age of 4 my mama done died
My daddy started in drinking
And he left me by
An orphanage door
Said "Get the rest of your life for thinking, now"

At the age of 8
Thoughts filled my mind
I had to run, had to run away
And I met a bum by the name of Joe
And he told me I could stay, now

Now, Joe said
"Earn your keep, boy!
Man's gotta work for every meal!"
And Joe, he taught me how to rob, Lord
He taught me how to steal

At age 13
I was a restless lad
And Joe said "Little drink can do you no harm"
But by 15 years a-drinkin' meant nothin'
Compared to these holes in my arm

Now, I'm not a violent man
I can't stand killing
Without a reason to be done
But when my friend Joe started stealing my brandy
Shot him with a second-hand gun

People don't know
What pain it is running
So even a man of 30 cries with tears
But I've been living on crumbs and sterno
Nigh under 15 years

My strength is gone, my eyes are closing
It's getting dark and oh, so cold
But it's nice and warm
In the place I'll be going to
They'll probably have me shoveling coal, now

So let it now be said
That a man ain't been living
But he spends life in vain
'Cause I spent 30 cold, windy, thirsty years
Inside the House of Pain, now
Inside the House of Pain
Inside the House of Pain

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