| Well I burned my fair share
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| Of bridges here and bridges there
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| And I gave into every hazard of the occupation
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| For years I called a highway home
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| But I never got good at sleepin' alone
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| And I earned every letter of my bad reputation
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| See it’s a blurry line between wrong and right
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| 'Cause what feels so good on a Saturday night
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| Hurts like hell come Sunday mornin'
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| I’s standin' there when she walked in
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| And her eyes lit up with a sideways grin
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| Head got light and my chest caved without warnin'
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| See I put down the bottle, and she puts up with me
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| I’ve spent hours in the mirror tryin' to figure out just what it is she sees
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| If it weren’t for that woman, Lord, I don’t know where I’d be
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| I gave up the drinkin' 'fore she gave up on me
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| Well I might as well have been an Irishman
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| 'Cause me and old John Jameson
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| Spent many nights burnin' both ends of that candle
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| Back in my wild and younger days
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| Boy, lemme tell ya, I could put 'em away
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| But come closin' time, oh man, I’s hard to handle
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| See I put down the bottle, and she puts up with me
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| I’ve spent hours in the mirror tryin' to figure out just what it is she sees
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| If it weren’t for that woman, Lord, I don’t know where I’d be
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| I gave up the drinkin' 'fore she gave up on me
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| It was late one summer in old Cow Town
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| We were shuttin' down the Motor Lounge
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| Then and there it hit me 'bout as serious as a heart attack
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| So I ordered one last drink and I paid
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| And I bid farewell to my ramblin' days
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| And I walked out that front door and I didn’t look back
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| You see I put down the bottle, and she put up with me
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| I’ve spent hours in the mirror tryin' to figure out just what it is she sees
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| If it weren’t for that woman, Lord, I don’t know where I’d be
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| I gave up the drinkin' 'fore she gave up on me
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| Yes I gave up the drinkin' 'fore she gave up on me |