Make It Through

There's old pickles in a moldy fridge
Some folks call it home
They buy nickels from the iron pitts
Irony's a trait they own

Papa eats beans, Mama eats cornbread
The kids just keep on growing
They got eight beds for thirteen head
And the house ain't one they own

Oh betty won't you fetch my cap
I got a bit of thinking to do
Oh betty things are looking pretty bad
But I'm betting that we're gonna make it through

Old as a kettle, hear grandma callin'
Talking 'bout the shape they're in
Ought to bust their bottom
And she would've had she caught 'em
But they's just too slippery and thin

The kids are a-caroling, a caravan for Maryland
Leaves in the early morn'
We're gonna travel it to the capital
Flag and border map and all
Dammit this is where we's was born

Oh betty won't you fetch my cap
I got a bit of thinking to do
Oh betty things are looking pretty bad
But I'm betting that we're gonna make it through

Thick-rimmed glasses In an old ford chassis
Rolling down a blacktop road
Trying to right some wrongs but the might belong's
To the ones with the heart of gold

Mama's been crying for about 3 weeks
Papa hadn't' make it home
But she's not too sure that his heart is pure
Or he's bleached and abandoned bones

Oh betty won't you fetch my cap
I got a bit of thinking to do
Oh betty things are looking pretty bad
But I'm betting that we're gonna make it through

Tents on a lawn in a hazy morning
Smoke rising in the air
Up on the hill, its a clearer dawn
Where the devil orders give 'em hell

Men with batons and a battle cry callin'
You're not going to take our homes
We'll shed our blood and die if we must
To justify our rights souls

Oh betty won't you fetch my cap
I got a bit of thinking to do
Oh betty things are looking pretty bad
But I'm betting that we're gonna make it through

Oh betty won't you fetch my cap
I got a bit of thinking to do
Oh betty things are looking pretty bad
But I'm betting that we're gonna make it through



Credits
Writer(s): Micah Williams
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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