I¡¯ve been waitin¡¯ on a cold front to trample this sun
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I¡¯ve been callin¡¯ my mama on the telephone
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I¡¯ve been cookin¡¯ lots of chicken on the kitchen stove
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And pulin¡¯ a¡¯meat right off the bone
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I¡¯ve been sendin¡¯ letters of sorrow home
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I¡¯ve been hurtin¡¯ daily and sleepin¡¯ long
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I¡¯ve been eatin¡¯ lots of chicken and getting¡¯ mighty stoned
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And pullin¡¯ meat right off the bone.
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(Bridge)
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Ain¡¯t asked myself, how did it get this way
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But when I ask myself, I ain¡¯t got much to say
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I¡¯m just a¡¯cookin¡¯ chicken and eatin¡¯ crow
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And pullin¡¯ meat right off the bone.
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(Instrumental break)
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We have no preacher to marry our son
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Our daughters have no faith in a Christian home
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How shall we live now that God is gone?
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just pullin¡¯ meat right off the bone.
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(Bridge)
|
Ain¡¯t asked myself, how did it get this way
|
But when I ask myself, I ain¡¯t got much to say
|
I¡¯m just a¡¯cookin¡¯ chicken and eatin¡¯ crow
|
And pullin¡¯ meat right off the bone.
|
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I¡¯m pullin¡¯ meat right off the bone.
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-----------------
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Meat off the Bone
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Gourds |