Track · Apr 26, 2026 · English

He Forgot I Don't Have a Neck

AshePoalumu1 plays

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Duration

3:10

Language

English

Lyrics

[Verse 1] – [swaggering, almost bragging]

He bought me a drink at the crossroads bar

Said "I've never seen a woman with a neck like a scar"

I said "Honey, you ain't lookin' close enough—

The scar's the least of it. Turn off the lights. It gets rough."

He laughed. Said "I ain't afraid of no ghost."

I said "Good. 'Cause I ain't the one who haunts. I'm the host."

[Chorus] – [shouted, stomping, with backing vocals in parentheses]

He forgot I don't have a neck

(She don't have a neck!)

So when he went for my throat in the dark

He grabbed nothing but air and a curious spark

(Where's her neck?!)

He said "How do I bite you?" I said "That's the trick—

You don't. Now hold still while I show you my spine-whip."

[Verse 2 – dirtier, more gleeful]

He wanted to leave a mark. I said "Baby, please.

I've been missing my head since the barley freeze.

You think a hickey's gonna make me blush?

I've got farmers' teeth in my horse's brush."

He tried to pray. I covered his mouth with my palm.

Said "God left this county. I'm the only charm."

[Chorus] – [repeat, more chaotic, laughing between lines]

He forgot I don't have a neck

(She don't have a neck!)

So when he went for my collarbone next

He found a hinge and a whole lot of context

(What's that smell?)

He said "Are you human?" I said "Not since '92.

Now stop asking questions and let me use you."

[Bridge] – [music drops to just voice and one guitar string, plucked once per line]

Morning came. He was still alive.

Lucky for him. Unlucky for his pride.

I left him tied to the headboard with his own belt rope.

And a note that just said:

[spoken, low]

"Thanks for the hope.

Too bad I don't have a throat for the rope."

[Outro] – [full band returns, stomping and clapping, then slows to a halt]

So if you meet a woman in a crossroads bar

And her shadow moves faster than her body by far

And you reach for her neck and your hand finds a hinge—

[laugh, then spoken]

Run, baby.

That's not a woman.

That's a promise.

[single whip crack. Fade to laughter, then hooves.]

Style

southern gothicfolk punkfemaleswaggering mid-tempo (120 bpm)dirty acoustic guitarenglish

Credits

Prompt by

AshePoalumu

GeneratedApr 26, 2026

ModelZona