Texty písní Frank Morey Cold in Hand BLAME IT ON THE DEVIL

BLAME IT ON THE DEVIL

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She lived six stories up in a cold water flat
I lost a full fifth of whiskey off a two gallon hat
It ain’t bad livin’ -IF you’re a cotton mill rat
There’s only one reason a boy be sweat’n like that
Blame it on the devil ‘til we get the church to make it alright

Throw a cover on the virgin
Turn the good lord around
Put Coletrane on the table and the lights way, way down
Hush my lover now don’t make a sound
We got four good hours before the sun turns around
Blame it on the devil ‘til we get the church to make it alright

Now confession is a convenient thing
A couple “Hail Mary’s” and a few “Our Fathers” aloud
Now preacher I swear I’m gonna buy that girl a diamond ring
But the good lord knows I ain’t got that kind of scratch right now
Blame it on the devil ‘til we get the church to make it alright

Got to run down to the station
Got to catch me a train
Gonna be a long while before I see that lady again
Loving her is easy, lord it can’t be a sin
She loves me no matter what trouble I get in
Blame it on the devil ‘til we get the church to make it alright

GOIN’ DOWN KICKIN'

I’m going down kickin’
And I’m gonna step on everybody on my way down
I’m gonna scratch out an eyeball leave it in the lost and the found
I’m gonna bite off an earlobe -spit it to the sky
And I’m gonna rage, rage, rage against the dying of the light

Well the lord won’t take me and he devil can’t make me
DT’s couldn’t shake me and my heart couldn’t break me

Chorus/1st Verse

Heard how they got to the Sandman
Stepped up behind him on an Italian bandstand
They got the professor, too
They got the professor, too

Chorus/1st Verse
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