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AG Y'all - Bottle Shock
02:08
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Broken angles twisted mind
Darkest alleys where you find
Keys will open secrets tried
Dare yourself to step inside
Rusted dark and shiny clean
Metal handles glistening
Yankee roses bible verse
Blessing or a copper curse
We going out, we staying late
Living loud, no debate
Hesitate, leave the rock
So twisted up, give you bottle shock
Heir apparent gutter trash
Soothing pain in weed and hash
Ours to never question why
Lock me up and say goodbye
Key to living like a king
Don’t hold on to anything
Twisted up and dinner roll
Pile it up and let it go
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I’ve got skeletons and I’ve got rust
I’ve got cigarettes and I’ve got dust
Got an ashtray for snuffing memories
Got a chip upon my shoulder
And a fear of getting older
And a worried mind that’s brought me to my knees
Things ain’t been going my way
Pounding pavement every day
Play the piano for the strangers off the street
Give it all til there’s nothing left of me
Put their dollars in the jar
Ain’t been going quite as far
Hope I get out in time to make the number 3
Put in their requests
Try to give ‘em all my best
They’re here to be footloose and fancy free
I’ve got whiskey in my jar
I’ve got Matilda’s waltzing hard
I’ve got black velvet bands still waiting in the wings
I’ve got Jerry Lee in the bag
I’ve got Joplin’s favorite rag
Got a repertoire that’s fit for The King
I’m so tired of this shit
But I know I’ll never quit
Even though the struggle never ends
And while I spin this tale
Of an Ahab and his whale
Spare a buck or two cause I ain’t got no sense
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3. |
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well theres keys and a book on an old coffee table
in a motel in santa fe
and a note from his mom saying call when you’re able
and we’ll help you find your way
so he tried every key on every single door
that he found in santa fe
but none of them fit
growing tired of it
threw that key ring away
now there’s a book on that old coffee table
in a motel in santa fe
and a note from his mom saying call when you’re able
and we’ll help you find your way
so he looked through that book
for a single mention of santa fe
but he never found nothin, except for frustration
so he threw that book away
now there’s an old coffee table
in a motel in santa fe
and a note from his mom saying call when you’re able
and we’ll help you find your way
he finally called home on some old payphone
just outside of santa fe
said mother to son,
‘your journey was done when you called home today’
now there’s an old coffee table
in a motel in santa fe
there’s some keys and a book on an old coffee table
in a motel in santa fe
and a note from his mom saying call when you’re able
and we’ll help you find your way
we’ll help you
find your way
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By now all the parts, have all been replace
to the point that all that's left is a soul
Nothing original remains, even though it looks whole
Time has set and taken its toll
But I just can't let go
Would be hard to impart, the meaning it has to me
Need to start at the beginning
It's become a part of my story, piles of junk
Telling a hoarder's history
It's a part of my soul
It looks like junk but it has history
It's not worth much, to anyone but me
Inside these pages holds my memory
It's not much, but to me
It's a meaningful thing
It looks like a pile just collecting dust
Keys to old locks not worth anything much
Can't bring myself to throw it away
I'm connected to the words written on the page
It looks like junk but it has history
It's not worth much, to anyone but me
Inside these pages holds my memory
It's not much, but to me
It's a meaningful thing
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5. |
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jailor, won’t you, jailor, won’t you keep him locked up tight
ain’t enough bolts on the prison door to hold my lover tonight
to hold my lover tonight
I was a-drifitin’ angel with a chainsaw heart
looking for a place to land
they had me breaking horses out the Canterlane Farm
I was sinking like a stone beneath the sand
sinking like a stone beneath the sand
he was a mean old grifter with a monkey's paw
shacked up in a double-wide
with the devil in his grin and a split-bone jaw
I must’ve seen the thorn set in his side
must’ve seen the thorn set in his side
jailor, won’t you, jailor, won’t you keep him locked up tight
ain’t enough bolts on the prison door to hold my lover tonight
to hold my lover tonight
he used to beat me in the night when he’d come late
but only when he’d come back home at all
but in the cold gray mist of the morning, once again
the helplessness reduced me to a crawl
helplessness reduced me to a crawl
and if the lord won’t help me and the law don’t care
tell me what I’m ‘sposed to do?
would you live some kind of purgatory, trembling inside
wait to find out what he’ll do to you, boys
find out what he’d do to you
jailor, won’t you, jailor, won’t you keep him locked up tight
ain’t enough bolts on the prison door to hold my lover tonight
to hold my lover tonight
and if the clock struck 9 on a moonless winter night
and the Appaloosas stamping in their stalls
and if I raised my glass to the glory of his name
while the wind curled through the trailer walls
and if I mixed that drink with arsenic and gin
just enough to burn me anyhow
do you think that there’s a soul gonna speak for his parole
tell me who among you blames me now?
jailor, won’t you, jailor, won’t you keep him locked up tight
ain’t enough bolts on the prison door to hold my lover tonight
to hold my lover tonight
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