In a cold wyoming motel room I was sitting on the edge of the bed One hand held the bottle of jack And the other had a gun to my head I thought I might get famous Just after I die and my ex-wife would get all money And that one thought kept me alive I understand why you drank Hank I know why the poets cry I know why your heart sank and I know why your spirit still flies I just to say thanks Hank Every time that my soul takes flight in a song You gotta write it like you feel it I feel like singing along In some south Austin music store A kid buys a guitar He only knows one thing for sure He's gonna be a star And you wanna say kid don't do it Ya can't stop it once it starts But something old inside your soul says God bless your precious heart
He's gonna learn why you drank Hank He's gonna know why the poets cry He's gonna know why your heart sank Gonna know why your spirt still flys And someday he's gonna say thanks hank Every time that his soul takes flight in a song You gotta write it like you feel it I feel like singing along
Well as sure as I'm here I know somewhere in a motel room In his underwear some sorry pickers trying to Figure where it all went wrong He's saying poor old lonesome miserable me This ain't the way it's supposed to be Hey wait a minute I think I wrote a country song
He's gonna learn why you drank Hank He's gonna know why the poets cry He's gonna know why your heart sank Gonna know why your spirt still flys And someday he's gonna say thanks hank Every time that his soul takes flight in a song You gotta write it like you feel it I feel like singing along
You gotta write it like you feel it I feel like singing alongTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
