Drive-By Truckers - Panties in Your Purse lyrics
[Drive-By Truckers - Panties in Your Purse lyrics]
Saw you standing in the hallway
Red plastic cup and one of
Them big long cigarettes
You asked me if I could play you some Dylan
I said "Dylan who?" and you told
Me to kiss your ass i apologized
But, you could tell I didn't mean it
By the way I rolled my eyes
And when you said it wasn't me it was you
Somehow I knew you were gonna tell me why
Stuff was flying out of the window
Falling and breaking on
The pavement underneath
He's screaming at you, red-faced and fuming
He'd come home early
Parked his car way up the street
You had your stockings in your hand
Panties in your purse
It was ten am and all the neighbors heard
Him calling you a whore and a tramp
You just stood there while your heels
Sank into the warm wet ground
He got a lawyer, you got a bottle
He got the children and you
Moved in with your mama
She cooks you breakfast and lets
You drive her car
She don't care how late you call
To tell her where you are
Y'all still fight, she still nags you some
Somehow it's different now than
When you were young it's your own damn fault
You been through hell
For one reason or another
Seems like she kinda blames herself
Music by Drive-by Truckers
(Cooley, Hood, Howell, Lane, and Neff)
Red plastic cup and one of
Them big long cigarettes
You asked me if I could play you some Dylan
I said "Dylan who?" and you told
Me to kiss your ass i apologized
But, you could tell I didn't mean it
By the way I rolled my eyes
And when you said it wasn't me it was you
Somehow I knew you were gonna tell me why
Stuff was flying out of the window
Falling and breaking on
The pavement underneath
He's screaming at you, red-faced and fuming
He'd come home early
Parked his car way up the street
You had your stockings in your hand
Panties in your purse
It was ten am and all the neighbors heard
Him calling you a whore and a tramp
You just stood there while your heels
Sank into the warm wet ground
He got a lawyer, you got a bottle
He got the children and you
Moved in with your mama
She cooks you breakfast and lets
You drive her car
She don't care how late you call
To tell her where you are
Y'all still fight, she still nags you some
Somehow it's different now than
When you were young it's your own damn fault
You been through hell
For one reason or another
Seems like she kinda blames herself
Music by Drive-by Truckers
(Cooley, Hood, Howell, Lane, and Neff)