Texty:
Los Sinners

I?m not on an ego trip I?m nothing on my own I make mistakes, often slip Just common flesh and bones But I?ll prove someday just what I say I?m of a

Never realized how much she brought to the table Till I went to sit my cup of coffee where the table used to be No couch, no bed, no heirloom antique

I know where I come from How 'bout you? I don't need baggy clothes Or rings in my nose to be cool The scars on my knuckles Match these scuffs on these

She was pacing back and forth on her front porch I pulled up slinging gravel in my daddy's Ford She cried all the way to Johnson's store I kept the motor

There's a little dive on a dead-end road Called the Cross-Eyed Cricket Waterin' Hole Where you can hear the sound of a steel guitar An' get loud, an'

Only fools would race down Grist Mill Road Let alone in angry weather That's what I tell everyone I know Now that I know better That's a lesson I wish

One, two One, two, three I woke up early this mornin? An? I?m already runnin? late There?s a list of things on as my arm I wanna get done today Is it

My skin is dripping from blood For that moment, I sighed in relief But I wasn't just gonna be dying I thought I'll bleed like sinners bleed Paralyzed

I've crossed deserts for miles Swam water for time Searching places to find A piece of something to call mine (I'm coming, I'm coming) A piece of something