Album Name : Big Smith
Release Date : 2005-08-03
Song Duration : 4:23
Big Smith Trash
I ain't white bred
I'm wheat bread
I don't make much money but I'm well fed
I've learned too much
To earn too much
I just don't like walkin' 'round half dead
I ain't no slack jaw
Watchin' Hee Haw
Cause my black and white's ridin on the see saw
You see either way I saw a shade of gray
The extremes are my in-betweens, y'all
CHORUS:
Don't call me trash 'till you've slept in my trailer
'Till you've dug up my roots
'Till you've lived in my blues
A man that's on wheels ain't my notion of failure
So come to my trailer
My boudoir to peruse
You come to Nixa
The fuzz'll fix ya
Yea the Spokane cocaine it'll six ya
Cause the redneck knows how the greenbacks flow
They got their bathtubs dopin' up the hicks, yeah
You outclass me
You look past me
You are certain your ideas will outlast me
But when the singing senator
Takes everything you're in it for
You'll wonder why you never thought to ask me
CHORUS
Johnny went to Branson
For to build himself a mansion
But the pretty magicians were holdin' hillbillies for ransom
Now Johnny doesn't go
To the Pharisee show
Cause he's mobile like a walkin' son of man, son
It may be corn meal
But it's the real deal
I think I'll walk the other way on the treadwheel
Me and the homebilly clan
Livin' in our tin cans
From the huckleberry ridge to the boot heel
CHORUS
