| Bluegrass #3 by Joe Fierstos |
| She shot me in the face She shot me in the face O Lord, she could've sprayed some mace That would've put me in my place, But that, O Lord, was not the case, She shot me in the face. There's blood dripping off of my chin, Lord, Lord. There's blood dripping off of my chin. She couldn't forgive my only sin In this world I cannot win I almost went and got done in, There's blood dripping off of my chin. Could there be anything worse? O, could there be anything worse? My life must truly have a curse I'll soon be ridin in a hearse All I did was steal her purse (and she got it back!) Could there be anything worse? (repeat 1st stanza) |