| Door knob in one hand
|
| Suitcase in the other
|
| And I don’t love you rollin' off her tongue
|
| Words ripped right through me
|
| Tore a hole in my heart
|
| Could’ve hurt me a lot less with a gun
|
| She nearly knocked the wall down, slammin' that ol' door
|
| Now the silence is more deadly than the violence of the storm
|
| I’ve seen a coyote howlin'
|
| Cryin' for his mate
|
| I’ve made a home with hobos
|
| In the boxcar of a train
|
| I’ve heard that famous whippoorwill
|
| And felt the north wind blow
|
| But there ain’t nothin' quite as lonesome
|
| As this side of the door
|
| This side of the door
|
| Me and ol' Jack Daniels
|
| Been in this chair for days
|
| And we 'bout rocked a hole in this old floor
|
| Got a pocket full of bullets
|
| A hair trigger .38
|
| I’m gonna put some daylight through that door
|
| I will burn this house down, before I go insane
|
| Use that rockin' chair for kindling, watch that door go up in flames
|
| I’ve seen a coyote howlin'
|
| Cryin' for his mate
|
| I’ve made a home with hobos
|
| In the boxcar of a train
|
| I’ve heard that famous whippoorwill
|
| And felt the north wind blow
|
| But there ain’t nothin' quite as lonesome
|
| As this side of the door
|
| I’ve heard that famous whippoorwill
|
| And felt the north wind blow
|
| But there ain’t nothin' quite as lonesome
|
| As this side of the door
|
| This side of the door |