You plowed over me like a tractor. And you used me up and put me out to pasture. But I'm left to eat your dust. Guess, you're thinkin' that we must be done.
Why, oh why can't I lay this trouble down?. Lies, your lies keep coming back around. And 'round and 'round and 'round. . You're a shot of whiskey. Straight and smooth and killing me.