Humble Hand

Well I remember being young, hell I think I still am. Well I was sitting steady chilling on the tailgate sippin' on a day old pint of that Tennessee bam shebam. That's the last thing I recall, hell I heard I had a ball. I was sitting sort of crooked stable staring at the stars, overwhelmed by how many cars were parked at bars. Could this liquor make me sicker than we already are? Is this my calling? Am I falling, is this what I need?

It goes boom, lights come flashing through the window pane lifts my arms throws my spirit in the pouring rain. Should I start runnin'? I must be running out of time. What am I doing on this Louisiana Saturday night?

Can I get a cigarette? Fuma fuma pass it over I get ain't got a lighter what I do I use the stove stova. Take another shower wipe it over rover chauffeur coming in a half an hour. Said I, "To the backseat," ain't call shotgun driver sitting crooked in the driver's seat. Good God! Am I gonna die? Just another picture missing from the newspaper see you later turn that funky radio up. Turn that radio up.

It goes boom, lights come flashing through the window pane lifts my arms throws my spirit in the pouring rain. Should I start runnin'? I must be running out of time. What am I doing on this Louisiana Saturday night?

I'm bored talking 'bout the night cause we all know Louisiana sets it up right with the band playing front stage never make the front page living off a dollar in the hopes I gets a good wage. Shout out everybody clap for the fine little girl in the second row back with the blonde hair mini skirt nice legs tight shirt, sipping on a beer like a true Baton Rouge beauty should act.

It goes boom, lights come flashing through the window pane lifts my arms throws my spirit in the pouring rain. Should I start runnin'? I must be running out of time. What am I doing on this Louisiana Saturday night?

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