Lyrics:
If I could stick my hand in my heart
Spill it all over the stage
Would it satisfy you
Would it slide on by you
Would you think the boy is strange
She, she, came from the land of the cotton
A land that was nearly forgotten by everyone
And she, she worked and she slaved so hard
A big old field
She, she, came from the land of the cotton
A land that was nearly forgotten by everyone
And she, she worked and she slaved so hard
A big old field
the shirt off my back
You got the heart let me open it a crack
Fiddles and steel takin' you higher
Passed cotton fields and telephone wires
Out
Where my money at? (Ah-ahh)
We post in the back (ah-ahh)
Picking cotton for the slave masters
Got a pocket full of slave masters
I stack like
If I could stick my hand in my heart
Spill it all over the stage
Would it satisfy you
Would it slide on by you
Would you think the boy is strange
Build it up bar by bar, Young
Just tryna enjoy my sex on the beach
As a beautiful Jazmin flower garnishes my drink
Grace sits next to me, sipping
wrong? What brought you home?
Was it tough out on your own?
Or did you drive all the way down here just to see me?
Or was it the cotton fields
miles
Through white cotton fields
800 hundred men to feed
Some were no more than a child
We were torn and battered at Antietam
"Don't fire until
the back of my head
Till its worrying machine
And in the cotton fields by the house where I was born
The leaves burn like effigies of my kin
motherfucker
Your great grandfather tied a ball
And chain to my balls
And bounced me through a cotton field
While I lived in an unflushable toilet bowl
And now
a hunnert-and-ten of 'em
I says, "Pig Pen, they just didn't have no faith
"They definitely gone ten-seven."
By the time we got into that Piccadilly Town,
'Bout half
and singin’ songs
About drinking about small towns and “Back in Black”
We always found the party I remember the way
That smell of beer and barbecue mixed with
of my head till it's weary and mushy
And in the cotton fields out by the house where I was born
The leaves burn like effigies of my kin
The trains run
pour down out in them cotton fields
We were pour but we didn't know better
Work all day no matter the weather
Hoeing rows of cotton till the sun goes
He was just an ailing boy
Seventeen or more
Went away to cotton fields
Upon a distant shore
He was weak, but he was strong
Within his will and mind
Boss Dog Player
Villain in the field
Little brother is a Slayer
I kill it if I can yuh
Give me your hand now
We taking a trip
Under the moon, fire by
of national security, making anti-muck
out of spread-out style. the irrational reproduction
of these impossible motherfuckers is spurred on by
you and me
First with your hands and then with your mouth.
A downpour of sweat, damp cotton clouds.
I was a fool, you were my friend. We made it happen.
Sank about a hunnert-and-ten of 'em
I says, "Pig Pen, they just didn't have no faith
"They definitely gone ten-seven."
By the time we got into that
The family's been here for
The last hundred years
And it's all that he's ever known
Life in the cotton fields
Swamps and the rolling hills
Always
amusement parks USA
Hurry, hurry, hurry folks step right up to the beach boy circus.
The best little show in town.
Hurry, hurry, hurry, it's only a dime
amusement parks USA
Hurry, hurry, hurry folks step right up to the beach boy circus.
The best little show in town.
Hurry, hurry, hurry, it's only a dime
This ain't no harder than drivin a big wheel
through a Georgia cotton field, man
This ruthless
The original game detector
Yeah
You know what I
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