Includes unlimited streaming of Young Randy
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ships out within 5 days
$15USD
lyrics
Sleepless soreness sets in again. I crawl from the sheets to the sink. Lies might not be right, but the truth fucking hurts. Lately I can’t seem to lockout. I get so close just to fall to the floor. My spot’s long gone and the pins don’t help anymore. And you might please a girl with whisky in your veins. But the bar ain’t a girl, it won’t take any blame, and you can’t put the iron on your back with a bottle in your hand. I try to sit back but my chest caves in from them bogies I bummed last night. The promise of a good time pulls my knees away from the fight. So I roll up when I should be rolling out these tired legs of mine. My chalk worn hands don’t resist, they do it all the time. And you might please a girl with whisky in your veins. But the bar ain’t a girl, it won’t take any blame, and you can’t put the iron on your back with a bottle in your hand. I dig my heels in, cut the shit, my head spins and I push. Rack it.
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