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I caught you with him |
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On them damp, slick, sticky, satin sheets |
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Then I packed my things and then I hit the streets |
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(Chorus) |
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87 southbound, to San Anton' |
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You got your baby, I got no home |
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The pavements burnin', at a hundred and two |
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I don't need to hear no more excuses, but I don't need you |
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Lord the sun keeps beatin' me down, and it's hotter'n hell |
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And if I'm a lucky I'll catch a ride, but you can't never tell |
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I'd rather be here with the bugs and flies, then back there hearin' your alibis |
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I heard all that I'm gonna hear you say, I gonna take my pride and go the other way |
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87 southbound, to San Anton' |
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It's getting late out, I'm forty miles from home |
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The rain keeps a fallin', like the tears of my eyes |
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Just tryin' to wash away the hurt from all your lies |
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(yeah daddy) |
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And lightnin' streaks across the evenin' sky |
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And if I'm a lucky (it'll make you?) laid right down and die |
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I know when the morning comes, I'll still be a walking son-of-a-gun |
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When afternoon comes rolls around, I'll have ten more miles and one more town |
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(Repeat Chorus) |
