A Bb B Well, I caught you with him on those damn satin sheets, So I packed my things and then I hit the streets.E B E 87 southbound to San Antone, it’s getting late out, I ain’t got no home.E A The pavements burning down at 92E B E I don’t need to hear no more excuses that I don’t love you.E B E Lord, the sun keeps beating me down and it’s hotter than hell.B E And if I’m lucky I’ll catch a ride but you can never tell.Continúa después del anuncioA E I’d rather be here with the bugs and flies than back there hearing your alibisB E Heard all that I’m gonna hear you say, I’m gonna take my pride and go the other way.E B E 87 southbound to San Antone, it’s getting late out, I’m 40 miles from home,E A The rain keeps falling like the tears in my eyes,E B E I’m just trying to wash away all the hurt from all your lies.E B E Lightning streaks across the evening skyB E and if I’m lucky I’ll make it big or lay right down and die.A E I know when the morning comes I’m gonna be a walking son of a gun.B E And afternoon comes rolling around, I’ll have ten more miles and one more town.E B E 87 southbound to San Antone, it’s getting late out, I ain’t got no home,E A The pavements burning at 102.E B E I don’t need to hear no more excuses that I don’t love you.E B E I don’t need to hear no more excuses that I don’t love you.
87 Southbound
Hank Williams III
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