Tytuł: FLOORBOARD BLUES

• Wykonawca: Cowboy Junkies
• Wyświetleń: 320

Look under his floorboards, Mama,
  I don't trust his silly grin
  He's got a beat-up Rambler, Nebraska plates,
  and I ain't getting in
  I don't like the way his pinky ring
  picks up the dashboard light
  or his short little piggy fingers
  or the way his belt is cinched too tight
  
  Check under his floorboards, Mama,
  I don't like his suggestive tone
  The way his words drip from his mouth
  as he asks can I take you home?
  I don't care how many miles I got,
  I think I'd rather walk them alone
  than to sit in the back seat
  as his eyes in the mirror
  reduce me to flesh and bone
  
  Check under his floorboards, Mama,
  'cause that razor's not just a threat to me
  He'll be slicing tiny crescents from your heart,
  without laying a sweaty palm to your cheek
  Don't accuse me of running scared,
  listen to what I'm saying
  It's a fucked up ol' world, but this ol' girl
  Well, she ain't giving in