Skaggs Ricky. Miscellaneous. Country Boy. (Tony Colton). . I may look like a city slicker shinin' up through my shoes. But underneath I'm just a cotton picker pickin' up the messy blues.
Beneath this neon haze here in this honky tonk. I tell everyone who'll listen I don't miss her being gone. I've got a big smile painted on my face that's all I see.
Where ever you go we go amigo. Been there through thick and thin. Down and out and back again. Where ever you go we go amigo. On the road that leads us to the setting sun.
You're not gone,really gone. You'll be back, I know you will. You're just taking a walk. On the wild side of life. . In my house are many heartaches. Loneliness is all around.
12-12-84. Ten o'clock at night. Funny how you can remember. Certain moments in your life. . I wish, I could go back. To take back the words I said. Though it's been years since that night.
Mother red river she wind like a copperhead. Coils and boils over dennison dam. Little white houses, eggs on the rocky bed. I am the sun of the serpent, I am.
He sang the power and glory down the hill at evenin. The rain, the river roarin, wild geese at their grievin. All the way to nashville town he strayed.
Common cool, he was a proud young fool in a kick-ass wal-mart tie. Rippin down the main drag, trippin on the headlights rollin by. In the early dawn when the cars were gone, did he hear the master's call?.
In a castle keep, in a vault of stone, in a house at the end of the lane. And old man weeps in his door alone and he sings out this mournful refrain. .
She come down from oklahoma with her brown-eyed pride and joy. She come down from oklahoma with her brown-eyed pride and joy. The fair-haired desdemona and her ramblin guitar boy.
Woodpecker woman, chipaway, whittle, carve my name in a hick'ry fiddle. Dance all night, dream just a little, i go like the raven. . Down in the meadow, deep in the holler, bullfrong sing to the bug-eyed crawler.
Down to a dollar in a terrible fix, i was hopin my bookie would call. Coolin my heels at the motel six, waitin for the axe to fall. Phone rings, man, i'm white as a ghost.
Hey-yah. . My love has gone all upon the crimson trail. His drum at dawn beating brimstone through the veil. Clear light through smoke and ash. And balmy seas, where breakers crash and roll.
On a sleepy endless ocean when the world lay in a dream. There was rhythm in the splash and roll, but not a voice to sing. So the moon shone on the breakers and the morning warmed the waves.
All rise, behold the famous disappearing man. Who comes in crimson robes but leaves in yellow rags. Hear now his ancient call to union. And the furious communion of the maiden and the stag.
In fair silver city on the blind side of fate. I grew up to manhood on the narrow and straight. But prideful i stumbeled, and foolish i fell. In the silken fine trammels of a cruel yankee belle.
236-6132 is the number of my love. Even though it's been some time since he made fair to answer. 'Cause he feints and fades from view like a fighter ducks a glove.
You ate the cotton candy. Drove a bumper car and ran me down. I tried to kiss you on the big wheel. You jumped off and I'm the clown. Everybody step right up.
Harder than that howling wind was blowing. His wet cigarette hit the dirt. Cursing at that big road train behind him. Pushing out the windshield with his shirt.
It aint as fun as in the past. Light that fireworks fuse. Then you better run real fast. These days I light em up. I don't even hear the blast. It aint as fun as in the past.