1800's
You got a shoe in you
I've been told
It's cold
You've got a background sir
You guy
Oh why
Make up the lines alright
And get a hold of yourself
And don't back down from the hell
Make up the lines alright
And get a hold of yourself
And don't back down from the hell
We're running away
From the people who want to stay
Into the night
The sky is darkened
As the outlaws cry ole'
The fellars starving
Got to wash our clothes away
We've got a fool
Who's been traveling whole time
We've got a background sir
Loaded guns in our hands
We're running away
From the people who want to stay
Into the night
The sky is darkened
As the outlaws cry ole'
The fellars starving
Got to wash our clothes away
Start that warming
The chills creeping down my spine
I said it's colder
It's getting late I don't want to
Fry and bitter
It's getting late chills down my oh
Oh I
Don't want to die
I said I oh I don't want to die
Start that warming
The chills creeping down my spine
I said it's colder
It's getting late I don't want to
Fry and bitter
It's getting late chills down my oh
Oh I
Don't want to die
I said I oh I don't want to die
I've been told
It's cold
You've got a background sir
You guy
Oh why
Make up the lines alright
And get a hold of yourself
And don't back down from the hell
Make up the lines alright
And get a hold of yourself
And don't back down from the hell
We're running away
From the people who want to stay
Into the night
The sky is darkened
As the outlaws cry ole'
The fellars starving
Got to wash our clothes away
We've got a fool
Who's been traveling whole time
We've got a background sir
Loaded guns in our hands
We're running away
From the people who want to stay
Into the night
The sky is darkened
As the outlaws cry ole'
The fellars starving
Got to wash our clothes away
Start that warming
The chills creeping down my spine
I said it's colder
It's getting late I don't want to
Fry and bitter
It's getting late chills down my oh
Oh I
Don't want to die
I said I oh I don't want to die
Start that warming
The chills creeping down my spine
I said it's colder
It's getting late I don't want to
Fry and bitter
It's getting late chills down my oh
Oh I
Don't want to die
I said I oh I don't want to die
Credits
Writer(s): Conner Steven Smith
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