| I’ve got bottles and vinyl stacked to the ceilin'
|
| I get stoned for survival, it helps with the healin'
|
| When it all goes to hell the only thing I believe in
|
| Is weed, whiskey, and Willie
|
| You can take the ring
|
| You can take or leave my name
|
| You can have my heart
|
| It’s broken anyway
|
| You can take my reputation
|
| And drag it through the mud, go on and abuse it
|
| But don’t take my smoke, my jug of brown liquor or my country music
|
| I’ve got bottles and vinyl stacked to the ceilin'
|
| I get stoned for survival, it helps with the healin'
|
| When it all goes to hell the only thing I believe in
|
| Is weed, whiskey, and Willie
|
| So turn the music up
|
| I’m gonna lock all the doors
|
| Turn off the lights and close every blind
|
| There ain’t nobody home
|
| And the pictures on the wall
|
| Are just about lost in a cloud of smoke
|
| My vices and heroes will hold me together while I’m lettin' you go
|
| I’ve got bottles and vinyl stacked to the ceilin'
|
| I get stoned for survival, it helps with the healin'
|
| And when it all goes to hell the only thing I believe in
|
| Is weed, whiskey, and Willie
|
| And when I’m back on my feet, I’m gonna keep on repeatin'
|
| Weed, whiskey and Willie |