87 Southbound

Wayne Hancock

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    I caught you with him
    On them damp, slick, sticky, satin sheets
    Then I packed my things and then I hit the streets

    (Chorus)
    87 southbound, to San Anton'
    You got your baby, I got no home
    The pavements burnin', at a hundred and two
    I don't need to hear no more excuses, but I don't need you

    Lord the sun keeps beatin' me down, and it's hotter'n hell
    And if I'm a lucky I'll catch a ride, but you can't never tell
    I'd rather be here with the bugs and flies, then back there hearin' your alibis
    I heard all that I'm gonna hear you say, I gonna take my pride and go the other way

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    87 southbound, to San Anton'
    It's getting late out, I'm forty miles from home
    The rain keeps a fallin', like the tears of my eyes
    Just tryin' to wash away the hurt from all your lies
    (yeah daddy)

    And lightnin' streaks across the evenin' sky
    And if I'm a lucky (it'll make you?) laid right down and die
    I know when the morning comes, I'll still be a walking son-of-a-gun
    When afternoon comes rolls around, I'll have ten more miles and one more town

    (Repeat Chorus)
    No I don't need to hear no more excuses, but I don't love you

    Song details

    Composition: Wayne Hancock

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