Verse 1:
You got a blue denim jacket, and you’re bustin’ on the scene.
You got a blue denim jacket, and you’re comin’ on the scene.
Waltzin’ in the room like you own the place.
Spilling your guts all over my face.
I’m trying not to laugh.
But I’m running out of gas.
Verse 2:
You got a red bandana, and a pair of snakeskin boots.
You got a red bandana, and a pair of snakeskin boots.
Have you ever seen a rattler shakin’ out west?
It’s alright, but I think you missed the rest.
Of the points I made.
Trying to get laid
Don’t wanna be here anymore.
Help me find the door.
Bridge:
You’re too keyed up for a Thursday night.
Like a garage door spring – wound up tight.
The room starts to spin.
When you tell us again.
How you’re outside the law.
With the rest of you all.
Verse 3:
You’ve perfected the name drop in every soul-spilled line.
We’ve all heard the name drop in your bleeding heart lines.
We can stand here all day, but we know it’s true.
They wouldn’t give a damn about me, or them, or you.
Keep the lines blurred.
When you get hurt.
And when the heat comes down.
And you’re stuck inside this town.
A false poet-prophet
With a mess of wasted words
A mess of wasted words
A mess of wasted words.
credits
from Heatwaves,
released June 17, 2022
Sam Foster - Vocals/Guitar
Brad Cardille - Bass/Vocals/Percussion
Nikki Forrester - Organ/Spanish Guitar
Brian Norris - Drums
Benjy Johnson - Theremin
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