must have been a plan
|
to drag me under.
|
seems they've pulled this stunt before.
|
each time i try to leave this place they slam the door.
|
talk about a scam.
|
they promised heaven.
|
said i'd see my better days.
|
they call me an angel then they damn me with faint praise.
|
|
so where is my valhalla?
|
and who's in charge here anyway?
|
they're out of my favorite flavor again.
|
so soon i'll pack my head and swing out west.
|
|
how can i
|
trust anybody
|
after what they've put me through?
|
looking for sympathy's like hammering a screw.
|
what about the urn
|
to hold my ashes?
|
isn't there some place i'd be at peace?
|
never believe it 'cause there's always something
|
up their sleeves.
|
|
so where is my valhalla . . .
|
|
yes it was a plan.
|
and now i'm under.
|
and they're dancing in the dirt.
|
look's like i'll never get my precious piece,
|
my just dessert.
|
|
-----------------
|
Swing Out West
|
| Two Ton Shoe |
