American Wheeze

Ive grown tired, of the words of the single man
Hangin lifeless on his every word -- o man
You dont understand dear man
The little angel held out her hand
Sayin father, father I love you
O praise jesus I got her

Ok yeah billygoat an well play farm
I didnt mean to spirit stiff you
Nor to doy you no harm
You say youve got a bone to pick
Well, theres plenty showin on me
Come on up yeah bring your temper boy
Well see, well see

Yeah you may be the only one come on son
Bring your blade and your gun
And if I die by your hand
Ive gotta home in glory land