Finger
I got my finger wrapped around your mistakes
I let you linger, I like the taste
Oh quite a vixen on your family tree
You pour my whiskey, stand next to me
I got no time to keep you off my mind
I see you walking, where's your alibi?
Leather jacket cold sweats hot morning cigarettes
Straighten up your tie in your Sunday best
Lucky bets big checks glass eye haven't slept
When he come around he'll put a slug in your chest
Ain't a game such a shame running from the blame
His finger on the trigger in a blackout car
Shoulda wrote a letter shoulda lived a little better
Shoulda got out of town like a shooting star
Five dozen roses in the back of the room
Mixed with a gallon of your, pink perfume
It's quite a mixture of your favorite fumes
Don't act so trixie, howl at the moon
I got no time to keep you off my mind
I see you walking, where's your alibi?
Leather jacket cold sweats hot morning cigarettes
Straighten up your tie in your Sunday best
Lucky bets big checks glass eye haven't slept
When he come around he'll put a slug in your chest
Ain't a game such a shame running from the blame
His finger on the trigger in a blackout car
Shoulda wrote a letter shoulda lived a little better
Shoulda got out of town like a shooting star
I let you linger, I like the taste
Oh quite a vixen on your family tree
You pour my whiskey, stand next to me
I got no time to keep you off my mind
I see you walking, where's your alibi?
Leather jacket cold sweats hot morning cigarettes
Straighten up your tie in your Sunday best
Lucky bets big checks glass eye haven't slept
When he come around he'll put a slug in your chest
Ain't a game such a shame running from the blame
His finger on the trigger in a blackout car
Shoulda wrote a letter shoulda lived a little better
Shoulda got out of town like a shooting star
Five dozen roses in the back of the room
Mixed with a gallon of your, pink perfume
It's quite a mixture of your favorite fumes
Don't act so trixie, howl at the moon
I got no time to keep you off my mind
I see you walking, where's your alibi?
Leather jacket cold sweats hot morning cigarettes
Straighten up your tie in your Sunday best
Lucky bets big checks glass eye haven't slept
When he come around he'll put a slug in your chest
Ain't a game such a shame running from the blame
His finger on the trigger in a blackout car
Shoulda wrote a letter shoulda lived a little better
Shoulda got out of town like a shooting star
Credits
Writer(s): Jacob Schrimpf
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
© 2024 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.