You're so far from your weapon
And the place you were born
There's a bullet in my pocket burning a hole
You're so far from your weapon
And you want to go home
I try to give you whiskey
But it never do work
Suddenly, you're beggin me
To do so much worse
I knew it from the get go
The bullet was cursed
Ever since I had you
Every little thing hurts
You wanna get up? Let go?
I say no
You dream of seeing fire in them hills
But you better wipe that smile from your lips
Which of us will be the one to go?
He who hits the road's the one who lives
Printer Friendly Version
