Ain't It Hard

Bobby D, he was mean, he sold guns and guitars
All his shots from the breeze will be kept in a jar
There’s a feast tonight, with cinnamon and light
Fear is the best man and death is the bride

Well, days are uncertain, the rains are late
Behind every curtain a brother might wait
Stealing men is rich, working man is poor
Hounds lurking in he hills, better close your door

Ain’t it hard?
Home on Saturday night

Richard went to Austin, tryin' to find a band
He returned with nothing but a shotgun in his hand
She don’t need that pistol, knives are not her style
She poisons you with kisses, then kills you with a smile

It’s the night of the Lizard, slay with yer sword
Drink that muddy water, play them heavy metal chords
If a call comes from Sisyphus, please let it ride
Judy is a punk, I’m gonna meet her one more time

Ain’t it hard?
Home on Saturday night

Ain’t it hard not to cuss, not to fight, not to kill
If the devil won’t have you, and you don't know who will

Copyright © 2011 Zwaardvis / Talpa Publishing

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