He was spinnin’ wheels
Makin’ deals
Wildeyed in his twenties
With nothin’ in the way of work
He was ever fit to do
It was for the birds
He worked with words
The thing is, words work funny
You weld ’em right, you know they’re liable
To affect the way you move
Fronting him, a country band
A buncha rockin’ barkin’ deadbeats man
He played a gig with one night
When he was cuttin’ teeth
Hustle high
Hustle low
Hearken out that band window
The price of gas is getting low
In the pocket of the seat
Of his pants
He has had
Tightening ’round his body
Livin’ off tavern’s fare
Drowning in the grease
Fronting him, a country band
Roaddoggin’ in a stripped out van
Bummin’ powder in the barlight
When they were cuttin’ teeth
You can yell
You can croon
You can reach the fire code of any room
With a catchy song or two
If they’re sang in key
There’s room for error
If the band is there
In a way, it’s ’bout like baseball
He swings a bat left-handed
He’s good a walk at least
Fronting him, a country band
A buncha West Virginia deadbeats, man
He split the door with one night
When he was cuttin’ teeth
I played a gig with one night
When he was cuttin’ teeth