Eastwood

The gig is up she pounds on the front of the door
I got nothing to give to the girl anymore
You want my records the TV the Spaghetti pot
The Pills they plot bang bang my shirt like a smock

Hallucinate Hallucinate

I watch westerns with a red herring close to my heart
I'd watch them less but I wait for them callus remarks
I'll go to Italy to meet you in a desert in Spain
You call it fantasy I call it a trip in my brain

Hallucinate Hallucinate
With blinders on my head I'm coming out

Spaghetti westerns she calls me out on the street
With cigar and a smoking gun she stands over me
A fatal blow through my poncho my blood level low
Oh no two tickets to the gun show

Hallucinate Hallucinate
With blinders on my head I'm coming out



Credits
Writer(s): Brad Paisley, Robert Arthur, Kendal Marcy
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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