87 Southbound-Hancock (Hank III)
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 92
E 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.
A E
I’d rather be here with the bugs and flies than back there hearing your alibis
B 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 sky
B 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.
