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Drive-By Truckers
Drive-By Truckers


Background information
Origin Athens, Georgia, United States
Genre(s) Alternative Country
Alternative Rock
Southern Rock
Years active 1996—present
Label(s) Lost Highway Records
Soul Dump Records
New West Records
ATO Records
Associated acts Jason Isbell
Adam's House Cat
The Screwtopians
Website Website
Members
Mike Cooley
Patterson Hood
John Neff
Brad Morgan
Shonna Tucker
Jay Gonzalez
Former members
Jason Isbell
Spooner Oldham
Earl Hicks
Rob Malone
Matt Lane
Adam Howell
Barry Sell



Music World  →  Lyrics  →  D  →  Drive-By Truckers  →  Albums  →  Gangstabilly

Drive-By Truckers Album


Gangstabilly (03/24/1998)
03/24/1998
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. . .



You met him at the dance hall
You only saw his charms
You said he really swept you off your feet
Then one night he’s drinking
and jealousy enraged
He knocked out two of your front teeth

so you came over to hide out at my place
I guess I should have killed him there and then
but you begged me not to
now you say he’s changed
and you’re gonna go back to him

Don’t give me that bull about how it’s for the children
A man like that could never be a dad
What happens when he kills you?
What will they do then?
Sometimes you ought to ask yourself that

Don’t go back to him he’s a wife beater
You’d be better off with this potato eater
You say he’s changed, don’t be a fool
A man like that’s no good for you
A man like that’s no good for you


. . .



(chorus)
Demonic Possession
His court’s in session
I sign my confession
Demonic Possession

It was raining on the day she told me
them things that fella sold me
Mama wasn’t thee to scold me
No prison or cell could hold me
I still recall the date
I’z probably about eight
when I sealed my fate
You honor I rightly state
(repete chorus)

Suddenly I had a foot hold
I became such a butthole
I don’t need nobody consoling me
No one but the devil controlling me

LyricsI can kick ass and talk backward
I hang out with a whole bunch of slackers
and I know I can get some help from him
I listen to a lot of Led Zeppelin
(repete chorus)

I got so much money I don’t need smarts
My records are flying to the top of the charts
and I’m eating in all those fancy restaurants
and Hanging out with Sam Phillips
and I owe it all to him
Oh, the shape I’m in
The devil says the only thing that’s buggin him
is Hell’s filling up with Republicans
(repete chorus twice)


. . .



"She’s a beaute, yes sir she is" said EZ DAN, fifty five, a bad age,
smelling of Brute from Fabrege’ and sweat
EZ DAN don’t bathe a lot these days (and why the hell should he anyway?)
"She’s got a few miles on her, but then again, who don’t?"
he said with a slight chuckle, the recent Binaca Blast still lingering on his breath,
"and besides, them’s highway miles"

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other
it certainly wasn’t the car of my dreams, but the price was right
and EZ DAN assured me the mid 70’s were a particularly nice period
for Chrysler products in general
"and this one is a Volare’"
and besides, finally having an eight-track means I can play
all them tapes I ain’t been able to listen to since high-school

so we stuffed EZ DAN’s body in the trunk and hauled ass out of town
but somewhere just past the middle of nowhere the fuel pump blew
and the oil pump too, and the piston rods hurled straight through the engine block
dropping oil, gasoline, water, and anti-freeze onto the Alabama red clay below

Ain’t that a bitch?
I ain’t never been lucky with love


. . .



I wake up tired and I wake up pissed
wonder how I ended up like this
I wonder why things happen like they do
but I don't wonder long cuz I got a show to do

I'm sick at my stomach from the A.Z.T.
Broke at my bank cuz that shit ain't free
but I'm here to stay (at least another week or two)
I can't die now cuz I got another show to do

Don't give me no pity don't give me no grief
Wit till I die for sympathy
Just help me with this amp and a guitar or two
I can't die now cuz I got another show to do

Don't give me no preachin' no self servin'
I ain't no angel but nobody's deserving
I can dance on my own grave, Thank You!
but I can't die now cuz I got another show...

Some people keep saying I can't last long
Lyricsbut I got my bands I got my songs,
liquor, beer, and nicotine to help me along
and I'm drunk and stubborn as they come
chain smoking, guitar picking, til I'm gone

I ain't got no political agenda
Ain't got no message for the youth of America
'cept "Wear a rubber and be careful who you screw"
and come see me next Friday cuz I got another show...

Some people stop living long before they die
Work a dead end job just to scrape on by
but I keep living just to bend that note in two
and I can't die now cuz I got another show...


. . .



Late for church again
Never seem to be on time
Hear the bells as they peal through the holler
Doesn't sound like a friend of mine

A hundred eyes turn as I enter
Face burnin' as I walk past pews
I can tell they think I'm a sinner
Hear them whisper while I'm watching my shoes

Only seat left is right up front
I'm not a bit surprised
Back is soft but the seat is hard
Why can't they get it right?

Reverend Bob is pointin' his finger
Mom and Dad follow every last word
All this hollerin' makes me wonder
Does a whispered prayer get heard?

Reverend Bob is preachin' out thunder
Fire and brimstone pouring down
Me, I'm wondering what's for dinner
Waitin' for 12 o'clock to come round

Everybody's got their own Heaven
They all find it their own way

I am an angel


. . .



Saw you standing in the hallway, red plastic cup, and one of those big long cigarettes
You asked me if I could play you some Dylan
I said “Dylan who?” you told me to kiss your ass
I apologized, but you could tell I didn’t mean it by the way I rolled my eyes
and when you said it wasn’t me it was you
somehow I knew you were gonna tell me why

Stuff was flying out of the window
falling and breaking on the pavement underneath
He’s screaming at you, red faced and fuming
He’d come home early, parked his car way up the street
You had your stockings in your hand, panties in your purse
it was ten a.m. and all the neighbors heard
him calling you a whore and a tramp
you just stood there while your heels sank into the warm wet ground

He got a lawyer, you got a bottle
He got the children and you moved in with your mama
She fixes breakfast and lets you use her car
she don’t care how late you call to tell her where you are
Ya’ll still fight and she still nags you some
but somehow it’s different now than when you were young
It’s your own damn fault you been threw hell
for one reason or another, somehow she kinda blames herself


. . .



Them stories that you tell me are so hard to swallow
You said “Go to hell” but I know you’d just follow
The future’s closing in quicker than you think
and hanging with you I know why Henry drinks

Those obnoxious drunks downstairs are fighting and cussing
and twelve years of me and you don’t add up to nothing
You say what’s on your mind - tell it to your shrink
so he can know like me why Henry drinks

Just a few more hours till the sun comes back around
to tear each other down and drink another round
lost it on the way now I’m hating what we found
mendacity and grudge-fucks and pieces out of town

I drink half a case of beer on my way home from work
Daddy needs his medicine to keep his hands off Mama’s throat
Baby, push a little harder cuz you got me on the brink
of spilling more than guts about why Henry drinks

Telling you so much about why Henry drinks


. . .



Mama ran off with a trucker
Mama ran off with a trucker
Mama ran off with a trucker
Peterbilt Peterbilt

He is making her give life another stab
They can see the world from way up in the cab

Mama ran off with a trucker...........
Peterbilt Peterbilt

She can quit her job and be his little bride
He can get a local route and stay home by her side
She can fix him roast beast and sweet potato pie
He can eat a lot of it cuz he’s a big ole guy

They got married in Dollywood
(by a Porter Waggoner lookalike)
18 Wheels of Love


. . .



Steve McQueen Steve McQueen
When I was a little boy I wanted to grow up to be
Steve McQueen Steve McQueen
The coolest doggone motherscratcher on the silver screen

I’d drive real fast everywhere no one would ever catch me
and I’d kick your ass if you pissed me off so be careful what you ask me
and I’d never have an empty bottle or an empty bed
and as cool as Paul Newman is I bet Steve could whup his head

Steve McQueen............................

Bullet was my favorite movie that I’d ever seen
I totaled my go-cart trying to imitate that chase scene
That Duster had six hubcaps, know what I mean
and I love the way they all flew off when it landed in that ravine

Steve McQueen............................

I really loved The Getaway back when I was eight
that pussy Alec Baldwin sucked in the remake
Lyricsand speaking of pussy, I guess Steve got it all
He fucked Faye Dunaway and he fucked Ali McGraw

Steve McQueen Steve McQueen
When I was a little boy I wanted to grow up to be
Steve McQueen Steve McQueen
The coolest goddamn mothefucker on the silver screen
(yee-haw)

(suddenly the scene turns slow and somber, as a campfire harp plays in the background)
I went to see The Hunter on my first date
The Hunter was the last movie Steve McQueen lived to make
They took my drivers license when I was just sixteen
the year Mesothelioma killed Steve McQueen


. . .



Tired of living in Buttholeville
Tired of my job and my wife Lucille
Tired of my kids Ronnie and Neil
Tired of my 68 Bonneville
Working down at Billy Bob’s Bar and Grille
The food here tastes like the way I feel
There’s a girl on the dance floor dressed to kill
She’s the best looking woman in Buttholeville

One day I’m gonna get out of Buttholeville
Gonna reach right in Gonna grab the till
Buy a brand new hat and a Coupe deVille
lay a patch on the road that runs over the hill
There’s a beach somewhere where the water’s are still
Gonna lay in the sun till my skin peals
Drinking the best scotch whiskey, eating lobster and eel
and I’m never going back to Buttholeville

Never going, never going, never going never going back!


. . .



All packed to go, baloney and mayonnaise sandwiches for the road
lay them out across the dash in the August sun
and if they turn green don’t be afraid
nothing can hurt you but yourself
nothing can hurt you but yourself

I been given to visions from time to time (Mighty fields of vision)
and the voice in my brain can be a little unkind sometimes
Go ahead, point it at me, I ain’t scared
nothing can hurt you but yourself
nothing can hurt you but yourself

and if you see me on the street and if I whop you on the head
you probably got it coming
and if you hit me back, we’ll call it even, but I ain’t going down easy
cuz my mama loves me and I got friends in Decatur, Alabama.

So drink another drink and smoke another cigarette
something’s gonna get us yet
Cuz I got ashes in my throat and I ain’t got no vote
it’s just the way I stand myself
nothing can hurt you but yourself
nothing can hurt you but yourself


. . .


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