| I’m feeling kind of banged up
|
| Slow out of the bed
|
| Neon noise and honkey-tonk wine ringing in my head
|
| Last night I saw your car
|
| I overheard your name
|
| Pilled my hat down low, wouldn’t want you to know I was in this shape
|
| Now these old beer bones
|
| Are like a rusty old plow
|
| These cigarettes eyes are
|
| 'Bout to burn out
|
| But they’re still doing better
|
| Better than my heart
|
| These whiskey worn lips can’t muster up a smile
|
| The soles on my boots have walked their last mile
|
| But they’re still doing better
|
| Better than my heart
|
| You filled it with your love
|
| Then you drained it out
|
| Sometimes I think you built it up
|
| Just to break it down
|
| Now that’s really left
|
| Is an emptiness inside
|
| A river running cold, memories growing old
|
| Dying right there on the vine
|
| Now these old beer bones
|
| Are like a rusty old plow
|
| These cigarettes eyes are
|
| 'Bout to burn out
|
| But they’re still doing better
|
| Better than my heart
|
| These whiskey worn lips can’t muster up a smile
|
| The soles on my boots have walked their last mile
|
| But they’re still doing better
|
| Better than my heart
|
| Now these old beer bones
|
| Are like a rusty old plow
|
| These cigarettes eyes are
|
| 'Bout to burn out
|
| But they’re still doing better
|
| Better than my heart
|
| These whiskey worn lips can’t muster up a smile
|
| The soles on my boots have walked their last mile
|
| But they’re still doing better
|
| Better than my heart
|
| Yeah, they’re still doing better
|
| Better than my heart
|
| Better than my heart |