Lynyrd Skynyrd

Wino on the street, drinkin’ a bottle of boozeAin’t got nothing to say, yeah, and he don’t got much to loseTimes are on his face, blisters on his brainWonders who’s at fault, knows that he’s to blameThinks back on his childhood and wonders the reasons why?

Floyd was a trapper way back in the hollerMade moonshine so he could make a dollarSix feet tall, dressed in overallsAnd wore himself a long gray beardPeople say Floyd came to town one dayBut two law dogs got in his wayFloyd never hurt no one in his lifeBut they never came back this wayNo, they […]