El Cowboy Rojo

Trophy Scars

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    I left my house at a quarter to four
    Saw my boy, Sean, at the record store
    I said "Damn man, it's been way too long"

    He said, "Hey brother, how it's nice to see ya,
    Hows your girl, Anna Lucia?
    Four years with one chick's way too long"

    "I know this blond her name's Christina
    She's just your type I'm sure she'd love to meet ya"

    Ha ha

    Damn, I couldn't believe it
    I run my mouth dropped and I tried to feed it
    The thought could give me an ulcer
    But the truth of the matter is I'd love to meet her

    Fuck, I mean I love Anna Lucia
    But the touch of another just seems so "whoa whoa"
    I know I'm better without her
    What's the use of a name, without a number?

    Yeah

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    Sean left and said "good luck"
    Then he jumped into his truck
    He yelled, "Your secret's safe man, I don't give a fuck"

    "Okay, gimme her number
    Thought about it, yeah I'd love to meet her
    I've got the place if she's got the time"

    I knew Anna's going out on Sunday
    Staying with her mom till late on Monday
    I know she won't expect a thing

    I met Christina at her work on Friday
    We hit it off and we were both excited
    I invited her on Sunday for a drink

    Sunday came quick and so did Christina
    She shook me harder than Anna Lucia
    She yelled, and screamed my name

    Couldn't believe this sin was conceived the culprit was me
    Christina was sweet, but trite naive, she wasn't for me
    No doctor's degree, no clean history, no small crooked teeth
    My precious baby, Anna, if only I could tell ya,
    I was sorry, it was never worth it

    After the sex, we cleaned up our mess, then we got dressed
    Christina said "Please, don't write or call me."
    I grinned and agreed, Anna arrived on Monday night, with tears in her eyes
    She said "I ain't your fuckin' baby, tell me I am crazy,
    I know just what happened, hope you're fucking happy."

    Get your hands off of my hands, lover
    I can smell the blood of another
    Get your hands off of my hands...
    Lover

    I didn't need to hear this or that
    I got a woman's intuition as a matter of fact
    I can still smell the salt and the sex in your breath
    Better hit the road, Jack, 'fore I cut you up dead

    So help me God if I catch you alive
    You burned me so bad that I can't even cry.
    Pack up everything that you plan to keep.
    I'm heading for the bar and I'm having some drinks...

    Get your hands off of my hands, lover

    Información de la canción

    Composición: John Howard Ferrara y Gerald Francis Jones

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