Tyler

Well my buckle makes an impression

On the inside of her mind

There were little feathered Indians

Where I tussled through the night

If I'd known she was a saint

Then I wouldn't have came drunk

To the place of such an angel

Too fucked up to drive back home

Looking over east Texas

Smoking rillos on the roof

She asked if anybody told ya

That them papers are bad for you

I said, "Many people have warned me

There's been several folks try

But up 'til now, there ain't been nothing

That I couldn't leave behind"

Hold me close, my dear

Sing your whispering song

Softly in my ear

And I will sing along

Honey, tell me how your love runs true

And how I can always count on you

To be there when the bullets fly

I'd run across the river just to hold you tonight

Well, my heart is sweating bullets

From the circles, it has raced

Like a little feathered Indian

Calling out the clouds for rain

I'd go running through the thicket

I'd go careless through the thorns

Just to hold her for a minute

Though it'd leave me wanting more

Hold me close, my dear

Sing your whispering song

Softly in my ear

And I will sing along

Honey, tell me how your love runs true

And how I can always count on you

To be there when the bullets fly

I'd run across the river just to hold you tonight