kind bone

I’ve got a hangover from too much of a good thing

I might get a song from it yet, but it hurts my head to sing

Too much of a good thing aint good at all, ‘cause when you leave tomorrow I’ll withdraw 

Let me have a hair of the dog if you got a kind bone

In your body and then take your body home

I’ve heard all your secrets so I know you can’t keep your word

She don’t know about me, but I know all about her

You talk to me just like I was a man, but man I don’t wanna be your friend

Let me have the last word if you got a kind bone 

In your body and then take your stories home

The tears that I’ve been crying have changed the shape I was

Eroding slowly and then all at once

Rivers cut oxbows into lakes, meander ‘til they find the shortest way

Let me see you turn on your heel if you got a kind bone

In your body, then we’ll both go home alone

I’ve got a hangover from too much of a good thing

I work saturdays

I work Saturdays

I wouldn’t have it any other way

Ain’t that what you’re supposed to say

So God thinks that you’re grateful

I missed her soccer game

But she told me that it’s okay

She didn’t do good anyway

I said, ‘You did not do well.’

Red Sox cap is haddock reuben, lemon meringue 

Blue Seal cap is decaf and just looking in the pie case 

I wouldn’t call them friends

For $11.00 before tips

Still don’t know why I was crying 

When Blue Seal had his bypass

Winter follows Fall

Weeknight evening games for basketball

You know I’m gonna catch ‘em all

Even though she won’t catch one thing

Tourists take their money down the interstate

We get snow plows digging potholes but we also get a break

We don’t require much

I know I can cover us

I’ve learned the definition of enough 

Is good but never plenty 

I work Saturdays

I wouldn’t have it any other way

Ain’t that what you’re supposed to say

So God thinks that you’re grateful

Nashville time

You got folks that miss you, a dog waiting at the door,

A bed of coals in the firebox. Why would you ask for more?

Your compass points ever homebound. Mine tracks the flying geese.

And I’m a fool who’s being shown how you’ll only play at choosing me

But now we’re on Nashville time

Landlocked navigators tryina read the sky

Now we’re on Nashville time

That gives us an extra hour but it don’t make you mine

I can’t seem to drop my anchor. You can’t seem to fill your sail.

I think I’m too small to pull the needle. You think you’re too big to fail.

But now we’re on Nashville time

Novice soothsayers waiting for a sign

Now we’re on Nashville time

That gives us an extra hour but it don’t make you mine

You tell me that you cry all the way to Bowling Green

But that never makes you change a goddamn thing

I know that ride north is awful lonesome, but you don’t gotta’ think about that now.

We’ve got a window, let’s throw it open. Let the little birds fly in and out.

But now we’re on Nashville time

Pilgrim poets praying for a rhyme 

Now we’re on Nashville time

That gives us an extra hour but it don’t make you mine

Free For The Taking

Liberty Tool