Melissa McClelland - Go Down Matthew lyrics
[Melissa McClelland - Go Down Matthew lyrics]
Go down Matthew, down below
There are footsteps in the mud
For you to follow
The black eyed boy with the crocodile
Smile made his way to Tennesee
They dipped his head in a
River and said "blessed son, you're free"
The shackled bride with the
Violet eyes fled Lafayette
She'd sooner stone Al Capone than
Pay a rich man's debt
Go down Matthew, down below
There are footsteps in the mud
For you to follow
He caught her eye on the fourth of July
Waving an American bill
He walked towards her with a prisoner's
Limp and a bottle of swill
Midnight came on an empty street
A shitfaced Cinderella
Sang "Devil's gonna git you" and bit his lip
Sweet Bessie a capella
Go down Matthew, down below
There are footsteps in the mud
For you to follow
The smell of Satan like a bouillabaisse
Of gasoline and burnt tires
She fled the scene like a
Wolverine from a forest fire
They found the chief in his sunday briefs
The press armed with ink
The sheriff said "they're probably dead
Now get yourself a drink"
Go down Matthew, down below
There are footsteps in the mud
For you to follow
Put your shovel in the ground, Matthew
Put your shovel in the ground, Matthew
Put your shovel in the ground, Matthew
Put your shovel in the ground, Matthew
There are footsteps in the mud
For you to follow
The black eyed boy with the crocodile
Smile made his way to Tennesee
They dipped his head in a
River and said "blessed son, you're free"
The shackled bride with the
Violet eyes fled Lafayette
She'd sooner stone Al Capone than
Pay a rich man's debt
Go down Matthew, down below
There are footsteps in the mud
For you to follow
He caught her eye on the fourth of July
Waving an American bill
He walked towards her with a prisoner's
Limp and a bottle of swill
Midnight came on an empty street
A shitfaced Cinderella
Sang "Devil's gonna git you" and bit his lip
Sweet Bessie a capella
Go down Matthew, down below
There are footsteps in the mud
For you to follow
The smell of Satan like a bouillabaisse
Of gasoline and burnt tires
She fled the scene like a
Wolverine from a forest fire
They found the chief in his sunday briefs
The press armed with ink
The sheriff said "they're probably dead
Now get yourself a drink"
Go down Matthew, down below
There are footsteps in the mud
For you to follow
Put your shovel in the ground, Matthew
Put your shovel in the ground, Matthew
Put your shovel in the ground, Matthew
Put your shovel in the ground, Matthew