Standing in the window with his tongue hanging out,
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like the king of something evil in a yearlong drought.
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With a dirty white suit, a big white hat,
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a bullet in his pocket no matter where he's at.
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He's trouble, but ain't we all. Trouble, but ain't we all.
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His daughter was a looker but five'll get you ten.
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He dressed her like a hooker and she smelled like sin.
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She had a ragtop car. She made good grades.
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She didn't like her daddy 'cause he wouldn't let her date.
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She was trouble, but ain't we all. Trouble, but ain't we all.
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Don't work for him boy. It's like selling your soul.
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He'll walk away and he'll leave you way down in a hole.
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His daddy wasn't a good man. He owned most of the town.
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He bought up all the farmland and tore up all the ground.
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He covered up the county in stone and creosote.
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Came to football games in a new fur coat.
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Had a real big wife and a real big grin.
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He gave thanks to Jesus for the shape that he was in.
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He was trouble, but ain't we all? Trouble, but ain't we all.
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Big sign on the roadside telling me how to live.
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A couple things that he done, real hard to forgive.
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So don't work for him boy. It's like selling your soul.
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He'll walk away and he'll leave you way down in a hole.
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Down In A Hole
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| Jason Isbell |
