We didn't sing Kumbaya, we sang with straight pipes off the 305 We never cussed around our mamas but we raised hell Until the day of the church bells
Nanny made apple pie in the kitchen Pawpaw cut the combs off chickens And daddy burned up this old town In a ragged GT with three different wheels Momma read tarot cards under that moon Spoke to God with some candles in the bathroom My brothers and me was some rednecks Coming up on a one lane
We didn't sing Kumbaya, we sang with straight pipes off the 305 We never cussed around our momma's but we raised hell Until the day of the church bells
We didn't play with Tonka toys We shot BB guns at the neighbor next door Any kid who moved in new Got a taste of that old swampy creek juice We walked bare feet till our feet turned Black as the slate on a swimming hole floor And any car that drove by the midnight street Never seen my six inch blade
We didn't sing Kumbaya, we sang with straight pipes off the 305 We never cussed around our momma's but we raised hell Until the day of the church bells
So dear mama, daddy, nanny, and Chicken Willie above I hope you're happy of the thick skinned man that I've become That I've become (That I've become) That I've become (That I've become) That I've become
We didn't sing Kumbaya, we sang with straight pipes off the 305 We never cussed around our momma's but we raised hell Until the day of the church bellsTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
