The Dead South
The Dead South
Seven long years, I waited for youYou played your games, I playedMine tooWhile I wait for youCourting calls and lots of hurtGirls are crying and I’m lying inThe dirtTrying to make this workI’m a big j*rk, fooled by your smirkPulled out your gun, shooting meWith wordsRight through the head
The Dead South
Oh pass the rum on down the line it’s getting pretty coldIt’s been nine straight days of hell and burnin’ fires in the snow And I haven’t seen my baby since that old black ship set sailStill we’re holding out ’till winter dies and hoping our strength prevailsThe full