Lyrics:
specialize in misconstruin'
We wanna be at a presidential level, what are we doin'?
Foolin' ourselves, clownin' ourselves, playin' ourselves
By not bein'
specialize in misconstruin'
We wanna be at a presidential level, what are we doin'?
Foolin' ourselves, clownin' ourselves, playin' ourselves
By not bein'
bar out in Odessa
Dirty needles breaking all the old records
A hundred hoes, one shovel and some old treasure
Ole Zeke use teeth as a gold tester
I got an old lady with a blue van, she does the best I think she can
'Cause every time I hit the road, she gets me to every gospel show
She's ain't
tower
'Bout the speed of watchin' wildflowers grow
Ain't but two ways this old boy's gonna go
Slow and southern, southern and slow
Yeah, I'm over
good to a boy with mud on his feet
And I'm wishing these days I could strip to my soul
And go for a dip in the old swimmin' hole
A symbol of our
to him
She said boy dontcha let him in
She was cussing and pacing and wasting her life
On that linoleum floor
He took him back to his old apartment
more
So grab your fiddle and your old banjo
Play a country blues so sweet and slow
We'll sing along to the drunkard's doom
And rock all night by
gonna work? You know you owe me too much to stop."
John said, "I got a little workin' to do but I ain't goin' by your clock."
People said John was
believe it, I just had to find out for myself
That there's some things in this world you just can't explain.
The old man lived in the Wooly Swamp way back
wake up fine and dandy
But then by the time I find it handy
To rip my heart apart and start
Planning my crash landing
I go up, up, up, up, up
you can't hear the silence
Even when it's there. Like the wind seen from the window,
Seeing it but not being touched by it.
*
Words sometimes
still shining, Flaker, Kily Cali - we still grinding
The streets is raw avoid the sirens, drive-bys all sorts of violence (Raaa)
Its Dem Boys from Raw
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Otown marco
Aye aye
I’m a old soul, I just peep things
Roll that dope smoke, that’s how we ease pain
Tell 'em take a photo,
these rocks this creek?
Raton Canyon by name pours
Coyote leaves & old Pomo bones
& old dust of Tomahawks
into your angler'd maw
My salt maw shall
Smokey bars playin' old guitars Night sky, singin' like the stars
Open roads, misty morning cold Night sky, singin' by the stars
Teenage boys, old string
whiskey and our own smoke, too
Ain't too many things these old boys can't do
We grow good old tomatoes and homemade wine
And a country boy can survive,
as Dino (Flintstone)
Shootin' dice with my ninety-five year old grandma at the casino (ball)
Countin' a half a ticket by hand, wit' my Mexican homeboy
home-grown
Gets her diesel wound up and she'll be long gone
Got her old boots on, new straw hat
Any red-blooded country boy's gotta love that
Some guys
this
Old thing back
Old thing back
Left him for her ex
She want that old thing back
The money is cool
But there's something he lack
What she telling him
and our own smoke too
Ain't too many things these old boys can't do
We grow good old tomatoes make homemade wine
A country boy can survive
Because you
Once I was seven years old, my mama told me,
"Go make yourself some friends or you'll be lonely."
Once I was seven years old
It was a big big
of the sorrow that he was suppressing
They said, By Allah, you will never cease remembering Joseph until you become weak
With old age, or until you are dead
He
will listen, please
I am an old cow puncher and here I'm dressed in rags
I used to be a tough one and go on great big jags
Once I had a home, boys
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