| Man, the meanest bastard I’d ever seen
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| Was that old man of mine
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| The back of his hand and a little Jim Beam
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| Kept us all in line
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| Well, my poor mama lived in fear
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| Damn near all the time
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| The Lord says we all got a cross to bear
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| That old man was mine
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| It didn’t take much to piss him off
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| And he’d be on the tear
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| I’m still haunted by the bruises
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| We all had to wear
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| Well, late one evenin' on a cold dark night
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| I heard my mama cry
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| Everything inside me
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| Just wanted him to die
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| Well, I called him out and said, «I've had enough
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| Let’s settle this outside»
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| He said, «Son, you think you’re tough
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| Had this comin' for a long, long time»
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| He got both hands around my throat
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| Was chokin' me to death
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| Well, I saw evil in his eyes
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| And smelled the devil’s breath
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| And one thing he never thought about
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| That pistol in my jeans
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| I put every bullet in him
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| That night in Abilene
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| My mama lied and said she did it
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| But on the Bible, she came clean
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| And every night she prays for me
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| From cell block seventeen
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| I wear this number on my back
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| It suits me just find
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| God knows he had it comin'
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| It’s worth the ninety-nine
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| I never have felt guilty
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| Not one single time
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| The Lord says we all got a cross to bear
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| That old man was mine
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| Yeah, the Lord says we all got a cross to bear
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| That old man was mine |