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Saturday, 22 September 2012

Time to move South

I was as hammered as an old nail smoking outside of a bar
When a girl walks up to me with my name tattooed on her arm
She said, "There are people in this life, boy, that were born to do you harm
And I won't let you down".

She took me to where she was staying North of the 401.
She kicked off her boots, took off her shirt, laid down her gun,
Said, "Can I pour you out a whisky, boy? I was gonna pour me one",
Then she laid me down.

I was woken by the desk-clerk of the motel the next day
Telling me the girl was gone and she'd said I would pay.
Then the guy bust through the door before I'd had a chance to say,
"If you bust through that door I'll shoot you down".

I found me a run-down diner where I could eat something
That would calm my nerves, line my stomach, soak up last night's drink.
Had the redhead waitress bring me coffee, home-fries, steak and eggs
And, God, I wolfed it down

I've always liked to move around, I get tired if I stay still
And maybe it's the rate I'll get from dollar to real
Or maybe it's the desk-clerk that someone's gonna find killed
But I think it's time to move South