meant shit So while I'm here I'mma take that and take this (nigga!) Breakfast yes let's eat wipe ya mouth when ya finished Then hunt for the lunch and
your soul From Robert Earl Keen to Robert E. Lee Perfect strangers or best of friends We all have a common little bond between us We were born to be hunting
make up stories You made a cameo in 'License To Drive' And later on did a line in a bar with both Coreys Six - never talk about other chicks Seven - call yourself Robert
Tiger Rose got new clothes The ladies love her so They laugh at her connections But they don't say no Get down high, get down low Get your heels in tow
Anxious hope and thoughts of love Will never let me down or let me go Inside, my heart's a cage of ice Where love and loss still toss the lonely dice
Does God look down on the boys in the barroom? Mainly forsaken but surely not judged Jacks, Kings and Aces, their faces in wine Do Lord deliver our kind
In a torrid little cabin 'neath Aurora Boreeay Wild Bill waxed his whiskers, dabbed perfume behind each ear From a flask of Spanish lotion that he'd had
The silver fox has shed its tail now Left it by the frozen water The leaves were drifting down Now they are gone, gone, gone I draw milady's carriage
Dry dusty road Dry dusty road Brother, won't you carry me along This dry dusty road Children shallying Playing in the morning sun Spike-heeled lady Running
What you gonna call that pretty baby? You must call it one thing or another This one parted water, that one walked upon Perhaps I'll call this child a
Up near the border where the cruel white water Drowns vagabond who sleeps too low Me and my companion, famous Jack O'Lanterns Tracked the misty mountain
I heard you singing What were you singing when the people got right? Were you singing 'Stand And Deliver'? Or was it 'Down By The River'? Were you singing
shit So while I'm here I'mma take that and take this (Nigga) Breakfast, yes, let's eat, wipe ya mouth when ya finished Then hunt for the lunch and dinner
down or stumble. I just pace, back and forth, like a lion inside of a jungle. This is my domain me and a mic go together, like Robert Downey Junior and
baby I hunt you to the other side I am your conscience ... I follow where you are You don't believe it ... I hunt you to the other side I am your conscience
you cannot appear" "we don't want to sign a piece of paper, alright!" "listen kid, you sign the piece of paper. You with your red hunting
Man in Chair: [spoken] Act two of "The Drowsy Chaperone" begins with this: a hunting lament of a very depressed bride. Now, when you are listening to
