Tag: Drive-By Truckers

I’ve always been a religious man

I ‘ve always been a religious man

but I met the banker and it felt like sin

he turned my bailout down

The Banker Man, he let into me

let into me, let into me

The Banker Man, he let into me and spread my name around

He thinks I ain’t got a lick of sense cause I talk slow and my money’s spent

Now, I ain’t the type to hold it against, but he better stay off my farm

Cause it was my Daddy’s and his Daddy’s before

and his Daddy’s before and his Daddy’s before

Five generations of an unlocked door and a loaded burglar alarm.

Lots of pictures of my purdy family

lots of pictures of my purdy family

lots of pictures of my purdy family in the house where I was born.

House has stood through five tornadoes,

Droughts and floods and five tornadoes.

I’d rather wrastle an alligator than to face the Banker’s scorn

Cause he won’t even look me in the eye

He just takes my land and apologize

with pen, paper, and a friendly smile, he says the deed is done.

The sound you hear is my Daddy spinning, The sound you hear is my Daddy spinning

The sound you hear is my Daddy spinning over what the Banker done.

Like to invite him for some pot roast beef and mashed potatoes and sweet tea

follow it up with some banana pudding and a walk around the farm

Show him the view from McGee Town Hill

Let him stand in my shoes and see how it feels

to lose the last thing on earth that’s real

I’d rather lose my legs and arms

Bury his body in the old sink hole

Bury his body in the old sink hole

Bury his body in the old sink hole under cold November sky

Then damned if I wouldn’t go to church on Sunday

Damned if I wouldn’t go to church on Sunday

Damned if I wouldn’t go to church on Sunday

and look the Preacher in the eye.

~Drive-By Truckers, “Sinkhole”

Since I’ve been talking about the South with some of y’all tonight, I thought I’d share some of my favorites from the world of Southern Rock.

Bloody knuckles and a broken nose

oh, that’s why i never left home

i’ve fought in bars

and i’ve fought in the streets

four more years of fightin’

’til they’re done with me

leave it ’til tomorrow ’til you say good bye

aint in the mood to watch no one cry

tonight it’s whiskey, so buy another round

drink it up boys its my last night in town

momma i ain’t your only son

aint no favorites here, its just how its done

drink it up boys its my last night in town

its too late to turn back now, oh

in the mornin’ its the wide open road

take it far enough it’ll bring you back home

she said “i watched them carry you to the back

couldnt say good by to you like that”

I can only say, “I’m sorry i’s drunk”

so many times ’til it doesnt mean much

when i get home the first rounds on me

raise up that glass – good bye tennessee

momma I ain’t your only son

aint no favorites here, its just how its done

drink it up boys its my last night in town

its too late to turn back now, oh

I can only say, “I’m sorry i’s drunk”

so many times ’til it doesnt mean much

when i get home the first rounds on me

drink it up boys – good bye tennessee

Lucero, “Last Night in Town”

You want to grow up to paint houses like me, a trailer in my yard till you’re 23

You want to be old after 42 years, keep dropping the hammer and grinding the gears

Well, I used to go out in a Mustang, a 302 Mach One in green.

Me and your Mama made you in the back and I sold it to buy her a ring.

And I learned not to say much of nothing and I figured you already know

but in case you don’t or maybe forgot, I’ll lay it out real nice and slow

Don’t call what your wearing an outfit. Don’t ever say your car is broke.

Don’t worry about losing your accent, a Southern Man tells better jokes.

Have fun but stay clear of the needle. Call home on your sister’s birthday.

Don’t tell them you’re bigger than Jesus, don’t give it away.

Six months in a St. Florian foundry, they call it Industrial Park.

Then hospital maintenance and Tech School just to memorize Frigidaire parts.

But I got to missing your Mama and I got to missing you too.

So I went back to painting for my old man and I guess that’s what I’ll always do

So don’t try to change who you are boy, and don’t try to be who you ain’t.

And don’t let me catch you in Kendale with a bucket of wealthy-man’s paint.

Don’t call what your wearing an outfit. Don’t ever say your car is broke.

Don’t sing with a fake British accent. Don’t act like your family’s a joke.

Have fun, but stay clear of the needle, call home on your sister’s birthday.

Don’t tell them you’re bigger than Jesus, Don’t give it away.

Don’t give it away.

Drive-By Truckers, “Outfit”

Ride the blue wind high and free

she’ll lead you down through misery

leave you low, come time to go

alone and low as low can be

If I had a nickel I’d find a game

If I won a dollar I’d make it rain

If it rained an ocean I’d drink it dry

and lay me down dissatisfied

Legs to walk and thoughts to fly

eyes to laugh and lips to cry

a restless tongue to classify

all born to grow and grown to die

So tell my baby I said so long

tell my mother I did no wrong

tell my brother to watch his own

and tell my friends to mourn me none

I’m chained upon the face of time

feelin’ full of foolish rhyme

there ain’t no dark till something shines

I’m bound to leave this dark behind

Ride the blue wind high and free

she’ll lead you down through misery

leave you low, come time to go

alone and low as low can be

Townes Van Zandt, “Rex’s Blues”