Hands Down

I am able to babble on the edge of a broken gun,
I just drink my pistol-whiskey from sun up to dust,
I aint never hollered at a homeless beggar man,
And aint never met a woman who could understand.

Hands down
Hands down
The sun has gathered down
Hands down
Hands down
The Son has fallen down.

Slick black hair under dusky razor lights,
The lounge singer belts but could never think twice.
Chicken wires scratches, so throw some dirt in the cuts
I would give the world to you, if you’d just face front.

Hands down
Hands down
The sun has gathered down
Hands down
Hands down
The Son has fallen down.