Automatic Blues Lyrics - Singles - Chuck Prophet

Well, some things I'm built for fixin' 

Make more sense to throw away 

The touch of something human 

What I really crave 

Oh, just give me one thing 

I can sink my heart into 

Not another measure 

Of these automatic blues, come on, come on 

Well, the preacher preached the sermon 

Sinners bow their heads 

Sometimes I feel so alive 

I wish I was dead 

You might be on your back somewhere, baby 

Too beaten up in your pew 

Would Sunday lift the curtain 

On the automatic blues? Come on 

Hey, turn me on, turn me off 

Turn me out, turn me on 

I said, turn me off, turn me on 

Turn me out, turn me on 

I feel like a pair of sneakers 

In a washing machine 

I'm bouncing off the walls 

Trapped in the heap 

Goddamn, thermostat's gone crazy 

I woke up with the flu 

Wrapped up in a blanket 

With the automatic blues, come on 

Hey, come on 

Get a hold on me 

Get a hold on me 

I want somebody to tell me 

Where can my baby be