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I been eyeing up a coal mine baby |
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I been eyeing up a Peterbilt truck and |
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I been listening to the radio sometimes |
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And it's making my backbone wilt |
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I been dreaming of the mighty mighty Red |
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And a thatch roof hut that I'd put on it |
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You got a figure there's a local 'round the bend |
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With a shiny red barstool and my name's on it |
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Oh, has the record stopped spinning? |
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Has the other boot dropped, is my punk flame burning out? |
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Keep my eye upon the Bluejay flying |
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From your collar to your hipbone baby |
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I don't expect it to be on you always |
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But surprise me with it one day, maybe |
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The way you did when I came in from the cold |
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Nothing on you but a devil-wide grin |
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And I don't imagine I could tire of the act |
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But what a lonely lonely road it's been |
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Has the record stopped spinning? |
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Has the other boot dropped, is my punk flame burning out? |
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And has the band moved on and left me on the farm? |
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Is my rock'n'roll nerve all spent, |
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just a flaming heart on an old man's arm? |
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Oh, has the record stopped spinning? |
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Has the other boot dropped, is my punk flame burning out? |
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And has the band moved on and left me on the farm? |
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Is my rock'n'roll nerve all spent, |
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just a flaming heart on an old man's arm? |
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I been eyeing up a coal mine baby |
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I been eyeing up a Peterbilt truck and |
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I been listening to the radio sometimes |
