Boot On the Seat

Call me superstitious,
I know just what I'm told.
These kinda situations,
Are gettin' kind of old.

We're wrong and I'm placing a bet
As I pay off this debt
I'm willing to forget,
I've still got no regrets
That August day we met.

Call me sentimental,
I love things that are old.
I'm just young and grateful
That I've had hands to hold.

It's dawn and planes are zooming past
The house I saw you last
And now I'm bound to crash
Or I'll start eating glass
'Till this tornado's passed

And I rode in a Cadillac,
'cause now I've got the time
For joy rides

I'm sittin' in the back
With a Corona six-pack
I'm enjoying the heat
With my boot up on the seat
I'm running out of gas,
So, driver, please drive fast
We're coming on the rise
And I've got sand in my eyes



Credits
Writer(s): Timothy Augustus Denardo, Samuel Sprague, Anthony Deforest Lukens, Jessmeet Singh Gulati
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

Link