Home from work of nine long hours my legs are sore my attitude is sour. I’ma play my guitar. I don’t play well, I don’t play fancy, I find two chords and I start ramblin’. I’ma sing a little song. I’m talking about the ladies their legs and their breasts, the way the finesse, I wish they would caress. I’m waiting for a phone call she’s being a tease, did she take my number? I have to believe. Have faith have faith. It’s a very rare trait these days facts only depress or make me cocky. Her body’s a fact, she makes me both. I’d have a better chance playing the lottery. Good man, bad man, love from the holy man, we pray to gods who live deep in the Netherlands. They slow me down, they make me think, now if you’re my brothers come help me sing. I don’t kiss well, I don’t kiss fancy. I find two lips and I start rambin’. Hair down her back and her shoulders are shrugging, she might have a man but she hasn’t said nothing. I caller her that, her name was this. She didn’t like that now that’s the end of this.