E Well, I caught you with him on those damn satin sheets,A B7 E So I packed my things and then I hit the streetsE B7 87 southbound to San AntoneE It's getting late out, I ain't got no homeE A The pavements burning down at 92E B7 E I don't need to hear no more excuses and I don't love youE B7 Lord, the sun keeps beating me downE And it's hotter than hellB7 E And if I'm lucky I'll catch a ride but you can never tellA E I'd rather be here with the bugs and flies than back there hearing your alibisB7 Heard all that I'm gonna hear you sayE I'm gonna take my pride and go the other way 87 southbound to San Antone It's getting late out, I'm 40 miles from home The rain keeps falling like the tears in my eyes I'm just trying to wash away the hurt from all your lies Lightening streaks across the evening sky And if I'm lucky I'll make it big or lay right down and die. I know when the morning comes I'm gonna be a walking son of a gun And afternoon comes rolling around I'll have ten more miles and one more town 87 southbound to San Antone I's getting late out, I ain't got no home The pavements burning at 102 I don't need to hear no more excuses and I don't love you. I don't need to hear no more excuses and I don't love you.
87 Southbound
Hank Williams III
- A
- B7
- E
Continua depois do anúncio
Tom: