American Wheeze

I've grown tired, mmm
Of the works of the single man
Hangin' lifeless on his every whirl
Oh, no man

You don't understand, dear man
That little angel held out her hand
Sayin', "Father, Father I love you
Oh, praise Jesus I got you"

Okay, yeah, billy goat, mmm
And we'll play farm
I didn't mean to spirit, stiff you
Nor to do you no harm

You say you've got a bone to pick, well
There's plenty is showin' on me
Come on, yeah, bring your temper, boy
We'll see, we'll see

Yeah, you may be the one
Come on, son
Bring your blade and your gun
Yeah, that's it

And if I'd die
By your hand, oh
I've got a home
In Glory Land

Oh, let my Lord come near



Credits
Writer(s): Jean-yves Tola, David Eugene Edwards, Keven Mark Soll
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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