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Well i'll take two shots said the devil to the man And layed a little book on the bar well lord knows The devil he only talks shit and only drinks whiskey From the jar and his hands were raw and his eyes were Cold and his breath was pure alcohol and the sound of His voice it never got old and he talked and talked and Talked through the night kept sippin his shine till the Mornin light tumbled in through the shades and as he Started to go i put three bullets in his back. Well the devils bleedin crude oil from a hole in His chest and its panging on the bedpan drippin Through the bedsheets and all the businessmen are Putting pails beneath his wounds and pawin the oil At the market well his heart ain't made of nothin
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