| Another bloody Mary morning and a cigarette
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| I got a hole in my bucket where my shits are kept
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| So, I think I’ll just go hobo with a bottle of Juan lobo
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| And hop a train out west
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| But I dig out my boots from a pile of dirty clothes
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| And I wrangle on a shirt and faded jeans with a few good holes
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| Find a mini nip of whiskey
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| In my pocket with a fifty so I’m good to go
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| Yeah I’m good to go
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| Maybe things are lookin' up, I could use a change of luck
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| Though lord knows I bring it mostly on myself
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| Singin' these old songs hauntin' every honky tonk
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| From Dallas down to the Travis county jail
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| Well my Mama prays I’ll change like a farmer prays for rain
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| In a July drought at night down on her knees
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| Thank God her and Jesus won’t let go of a lost cause like me
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| Well the mile markers passed are showin' round my eyes
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| From way too much hard livin and too little livin right
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| But I’ve got Ganga in my guitar
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| Case where all my picks are that I can hit tonight
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| Yeah I’ll be a hit tonight
|
| Well maybe things are lookin' up, I could use a change of luck
|
| Though lord knows I bring it mostly on myself
|
| Singin' these old songs hauntin' every honky tonk
|
| From Dallas down to the Travis county jail
|
| Well my Mama prays I’ll change like a farmer prays for rain
|
| In a July drought at night down on her knees
|
| Thank God her and Jesus won’t let go of a lost cause like me
|
| Yeah thank God her and Jesus won’t let go
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| Of a lost cause like me
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| All right |