Lyrics
Another ten-to-two on a weekend night
My voice is worn and my hands are right
I been singing my songs all night long
Telling these folks about things gone wrong
I scream and cry and cuss and moan
Echoes through the holler with a lonesome tone
With a lonesome tone
They think they know a thing or two about me
But truth be told, there ain't much to see
I'm just waiting on the boss to throw a few bills
So I can fill up my tank and eat my fill
Then I pack up a case and away I run
Try to make it home 'fore the morning sun
'Fore the morning sun
And I do the best trade for the rest of my days
Despite the fact that it's short on pay
'Cause I ain't no good with hammers and nails
And these songs save a fortune on shrinks and pills
On shrinks and pills
I do the best trade for the rest of my days
Despite the fact that it's short on pay
'Cause I ain't no good with hammers and nails
But these songs save a fortune on shrinks and pills
On shrinks and pills
I do the best trade for the rest of my days
Despite the fact that it's short on pay
'Cause I ain't no good with hammers and nails
But these songs save a fortune on shrinks and pills
On shrinks and pills
On shrinks and pills
On shrinks and pills
These songs save a fortune on shrinks and pills