Lyrics:
He used to come on Sunday
They'd drink till dawn on Monday
Then drunkenly she'd drive his car
He'd fall out on the back seat
And sing those songs he
the same
All you got is now
So close your eyes
And blow them out
Some kind of crane
Saturdays
Painted Face
Full of Grace
Tried to so hard
Full so short
I'd
Right here under this
Cowboy hat
'Cause it's a Saturday night
And she's so pretty
As she dances around
That silly country boy
He won't feel funny
The train left westwards on a Saturday sunrise
We rode along the linear scaffold
To a fertile sidetrack
Not yet been tamed
By urban architecture
around you
At people with no one to go home to
Some with a place to belong
Others consumed by their weakness
And another when weak seems so strong
She was like a brand new song on an old guitar
Supernova in a Mason's jar
Every boy in town wanted to show her around
And as the dirt road Finch
behind
Yeah my boys (my boys) they're all here with me
We'll drink that bar out of whiskey
Give'r hell by closing time
Double fisting, full throttle, all
money 'cos you won't be alone
Got my look out, girls got fit boys to look at
Tiger's room, what the fuck you looking shook at?
Fuck it
Touch it good
of town when things went south
Laughing with the boys on Thursday evening
Laying in a pine box Saturday night
He was laying in a pine box Saturday night
business
Any city any town - touch down I do my thing
I'm a hustler, baby, I provide by any means
I'm a great conversationist
You should know what I'm about
Caravan of yellow wire and crawling across the plains
Rolling along in a single file like a slow moving train
It rumbled down out of the mist into
Uh, my mind's filled with mine fields
The ashes fall, the wine spills
The world stops, drops and rolls
It's Judgment Day or a fire drill
Yea, I pour
the best week of our lives
Til Saturday comes
Oh reality just let me be
I heard a preacher say
He'd wash my sins away
Now I need him everyday
Oh boy
O'
holdin' out for three
Two seventy five and I just might agree
Ex-D-boy, used to park my beamer
Now look at me, I can park in my own arena
I only love
strong as iron
Iron, iron
Oh my god, Hov
Now these baby ballers, toy rappers
Calling out my name to bring the boy backwards
Shooting air balls
She was like a brand new song on an old guitar
Supernova in a Mason's jar
Every boy in town wanted to show her around
And as the dirt road Finch
I'm looking at a funeral wagon rolling down
A two-lane highway winding past a desert town
A big blue canvas painted by the Master's hand
to be
Hell there's a kid down by the dump there, ought to be in grade school somewhere
Now he hangs out with me, now I told him
Keep yourself
next Christmas i'm not all alone, boy
Santa, tell me if you're really there
Don't make me fall in love again
If he won't be here next year
Santa, tell
Oh, I'd have to be twice as tall
At least to feel better than I do
Yes I'd have to be twice as tall
At least, I mean me multiplied by two (by two)
holdin' out for three
Two seventy five and I just might agree
Ex-D-boy, used to park my beamer
Now look at me, I can park in my own arena
I only love
what he or she look like or no matter what he or she do
(God, she preaching right?) Aight
Well, if you fall in love, you can fall out of love (true
Everyone wants to be a cowboy
Grab your guns boy
Forty-five by my side, do he live
No the nigga dies
Zen, zen zen zen zen zen zen
You shot
grand if you won all ten rounds
So, you could come out of the middle of the pack
Move to the top and win a world championship
This is not another rodeo
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