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Carnal Cowboys

from Dad's Best Shirt by DAADs

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lyrics

How can I believe sir
With 7 whiskeys on his breath
You’re a Clint Eastwood type danger
To the land
All my men
Stand with bullets in their chest
Painting landscapes
Churches look like hell
Let my spectacles
Melt your fucking words
Ant hilled, corn holed gullets
I snort the mines
For mother Prussia
For my damned conscious
Colonies of cascading cuckolds
Keeping the game fucking red
Though small you pack that
Tequila punch
A lesson to learn over and over again
Welcome home, welcome home

Gimme that little bit of leg
Before I wash you with the rest
The red riverbank
Fucking stank
Crying and humping away
Every day
Help me you beardy boy
Gimme some of that friction estate
Riding into heated,
Pulsing, blurred terrain
Without the slightest refrain
If I were a book would you read
me? If I were a book would you
read me? Would you find me at the
library? What would you file me under,
reference? Would you clean my cover?
Would you rub my spine? Would you
read me?
Summer is baking our heads
And we can’t think straight

credits

from Dad's Best Shirt, released February 22, 2011

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