| Now pardon my personal demons, child
|
| But if you do insist
|
| Sit down and listen to me story awhile
|
| Cause it goes something like this
|
| The joint was small
|
| But we was having a ball
|
| At a place called the Blue Duck Inn
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| When I couldn’t help but notice her
|
| My future wife walked in
|
| I needed me a dose of her,
|
| So I a little closer
|
| And this is what she said
|
| My old man stand about six foot five
|
| And if he catches you, you’re dead
|
| Now, I don’t need none of that
|
| Giving me the blues
|
| The old man sitting next to me said
|
| Son, let me tell you
|
| Life, you just can’t fake it
|
| Love, you got to make it
|
| Time, you better take it
|
| Lord, ain’t that the truth
|
| Hear me out
|
| Your heart will surely feel it
|
| Women come and steal it
|
| Time can only heal it
|
| Lord, ain’t that the truth
|
| I save Friday nights for the ladies
|
| Saturday nights for my gin
|
| Come Sunday morning I’m asking the good Lord
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| To forgive me for my sins
|
| Lately my heave-ho, get-up-and-go
|
| Wouldn’t get me out of bed
|
| I felt like some big wrecking ball
|
| Done hit upside my head
|
| Now I don’t need a preacher man
|
| Telling me how to run my life
|
| Until an angel sitting next to me
|
| Said son, heed my advice
|
| She said
|
| You better get your story straight
|
| What comes around goes around |