Drive-By Truckers - Love Like This lyrics
[Drive-By Truckers - Love Like This lyrics]
(Cooley cooley, Hicks, Hood, Malone, Neff)
Coming home with a bottle
Trying not to break the seal
This Friday evening traffic's about enough
To break a man's will
And I can't wait to see you and
See how your week has gone
And tear into Old No7 and make love till dawn
But, your Mama she'll be calling
If she ain't knocking on the door
And it won't take me long to remember
What I brought that bottle home for
And we'll all get to fighting
Just like we always do
And by Saturday morning
I'll be singing these blues
Last night I slept with my boots on again
One cut on my forehead and one my chin
On the hard old floor with
Nothin to cover up with
You got me real good, girl, and I must admit
You pack purty mean punch for
Such a pretty little dish
And it's a shame to know most folks
Don't ever know love like this
Come Monday morning
I'll be sore to a fare-thee-well
Cussin' God and America
Wishing them both just to send me off to hell
But the boss man don't want no excuses when
It comes time to get on the clock
And without that paycheck
I'd lose the rest of what sweet love I got
Last night I slept with my boots on again
One cut on my forehead and one my chin
On the hard old floor with
Nothin to cover up with
You got me real good, girl, and I must admit
You pack purty mean punch for
Such a pretty little dish
And it's a shame to know most folks
Don't ever know love like this
Music by Drive-by Truckers
Coming home with a bottle
Trying not to break the seal
This Friday evening traffic's about enough
To break a man's will
And I can't wait to see you and
See how your week has gone
And tear into Old No7 and make love till dawn
But, your Mama she'll be calling
If she ain't knocking on the door
And it won't take me long to remember
What I brought that bottle home for
And we'll all get to fighting
Just like we always do
And by Saturday morning
I'll be singing these blues
Last night I slept with my boots on again
One cut on my forehead and one my chin
On the hard old floor with
Nothin to cover up with
You got me real good, girl, and I must admit
You pack purty mean punch for
Such a pretty little dish
And it's a shame to know most folks
Don't ever know love like this
Come Monday morning
I'll be sore to a fare-thee-well
Cussin' God and America
Wishing them both just to send me off to hell
But the boss man don't want no excuses when
It comes time to get on the clock
And without that paycheck
I'd lose the rest of what sweet love I got
Last night I slept with my boots on again
One cut on my forehead and one my chin
On the hard old floor with
Nothin to cover up with
You got me real good, girl, and I must admit
You pack purty mean punch for
Such a pretty little dish
And it's a shame to know most folks
Don't ever know love like this
Music by Drive-by Truckers