Well, I caught you with him on those damn satin sheets, So I packed my things and then I hit the streets 87 southbound to San Antone It's getting late out, I ain't got no home The pavements burning down at 92 I don't need to hear no more excuses and I don't love you Lord, the sun keeps beating me down And it's hotter than hell And if I'm lucky I'll catch a ride but you can never tell I'd rather be here with the bugs and flies than back there hearing your alibis Heard all that I'm gonna hear you say I'm gonna take my pride and go the other way 87 southbound to San Antone It's getting late out, I'm 40 miles from home The rain keeps falling like the tears in my eyes I'm just trying to wash away the hurt from all your lies Lightening streaks across the evening sky And if I'm lucky I'll make it big or lay right down and die. I know when the morning comes I'm gonna be a walking son of a gun And afternoon comes rolling around I'll have ten more miles and one more town 87 southbound to San Antone I's getting late out, I ain't got no home The pavements burning at 102 I don't need to hear no more excuses and I don't love you. I don't need to hear no more excuses and I don't love you.
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Top songs from Hank Williams III
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