Boil My Strings letra

Living down here they throw me down and count me
I'm making this up, it keeps my feathers clean
and the black boys they kick my ass and tell me
that the women their ruby lips are dry.
I get angry and I get sad
and I lose this sweetness that I used to have
and I boil my strings
to get them back to gold
sleeping in here they give me plenty to eat
don't make trouble, make something with the concrete
so I fill my pipes with it to break them black boys heads
Lord, but I wish I had a gun.

The Gourds - Letras

• (the new way of) Grievin' & Smokin'
• Bean Bowl
• Boil My Strings
• Caledonia
• Clear night
• Cold Bed
• Coppermine
• County Orange
• Dark and true
• Dooley
• Dying of the pines
• El paso
• Fine Leather Truck
• Flamenco Cabaret
• Gangsta Lean
• Ghosts Of Hallelujah
• Gin and Juice
• High Highs e Low Lows
• Honduras
• I Like Drinking
• January 6
• Jesus Christ With Signs Following
• Ladies Choice
• Lowlands
• Meat Off The Bone
• Money Honey
• My Time, Yer Time
• Pair Of Goats
• Pickles
• Pill Bug Blues
• Plaid Coat
• Rugged Roses
• Son Of Burn
• Sweet Lil Lub
• Tearbox
• The Flat Baritone
• Trampled By The Sun
• Up On High
• Waterbag
• Web Before You Walk Into It
• When The Money Comes Rolling In
• When Wine Was Cheap
• Ziggy Stardust