Brett Detar The Devil's Gotta Earn
I hear everbody talking wishin’ I was gone.
Everybody else is doin’ everybody wrong.
Well alright. I’m done hangin’ round.
I don’t need no needle, and I don’t need no pills.
And I don’t need no doctor to tell me how I feel.
Alright, you can keep the bill.
I been drinkin’ poison and hopin’ you’d fall ill.
So maybe I’m an angel and maybe I’m a thief.
Maybe I’m a beggar that you walk by on the street.
Alright, you cut off both my wings.
Sell me for a nickel. The devil’s gotta earn.
I don’t need no banker to tell me what I’m worth.
It’s alright. Some folks they never learn.
You’re eating fire and you’re praying I get burnt.
Papa always warned me, “Careful who you trust. Kings -
they build their castles with your blood. It’s alright.
They all just turn to dust.
So, let ‘em take your wallet. Let ‘em take your things.
You got your soul, boy and that’s all you need to sing.”
Well alright then. Come on take everything.
Like stealin’ flowers from the graves of the deceased.
They’re doin’ nothin and takin’ claim for everything.
Like getting married without payin’ for the ring
