Lyrics:
of the big time, yeah!
Now I'm sitting here dreaming
I waved goodbye to the man
Reading his magazine
At the hotdog stand
Clutched in my hand
Is a one way
and the Alamo!
(You remember the Alamo!)
It's another burrito, it's a cold Lone Star in my hand!
It's a quarter for the jukebox, boys,
Play the sons
I saw her dancin' there by the record machine
I knew she must a been about seventeen
The beat was goin' strong
Playin' my favorite song
And I could
alone over by the jukebox
Like she's something to sell
I said, baby what's the going price?
She told me to go to hell
Shot down in flames
Shot down
higher
Heartbeat jukebox
And you can't stop it playin
Drop that dollar
Gotta push it all the way in
It's my music
Are you hearin what I'm sayin
Give it
Well I moved into this room
If you could call it that, a week ago
I never do what I'm supposed to do
Hardly even know my name anymore
When no one
Well I moved into this room
If you could call it that, a week ago
I never do what I'm supposed to do
Hardly even know my name anymore
When no one
keep goin' around
Cause I'm the king of this shit, in 20 years get my crown
Stackin' up tracks like a mound, get my sound up there in the mountains
Map
dine
Started music, lost my homies, took that as a sign
Told me I'm just sum white kid from a town in Alabama
(Alabama)
Hopped up in a studio and I
gave her nickname that monsoon
My lil baby small like a mongoose
I beat her every time we in the bedroom
Yeah we gone play by my rules
Up and down that's
(Hook)
Been bout it bout it
Been bout it bout it
Been bout it bout it
Been bout it bout it
Now all my real niggas in here put your hands up
Now all
Alabama
fig trees and okra
don’t get no better
Barefoot in Pineville
Louisiana.
I ain’t know nuttin bout the south (ex)cept stories I was told.
My mother
criminal
Getting dissed by the alcoholics and beat nuts
Moved on out cos that whole scene sucks
Catch me back in your city for the redux
Been down on my
books just to ease the thoughts in my mind
Thinking to myself who the fuck is lying
Man i’m locked up in Florida by the the Alabama state line
My bitch is
Here I am standing firm
As the ground shakes beneath me
I send you away with my own hand
I try and try to remember that for now it's for the better
Thinking of the people either dying or dead
"Let's pick up the leftovers
Send them to the starving children in Ethiopia"
(My mother used to say that)
Sure I
The static is just too advanced, the slants, they running a fade, and catching the hands
Superstars on my side, and we ride in the morning, so now we do not
The static is just too advanced, the slants, they running a fade, and catching the hands
Superstars on my side, and we ride in the morning, so now we do not
a silk suit
Put luggage in my hands
And I woke up high over Albuquerque
On a jet to the promised land
Working on a T-bone steak a la carte
Flying over
Sittiin' in a dim cafe,
Listenin' while the jukebox play
The songs I like to hear when I'm alone.
Thinkin' of my wasted past,
wonderin' if someday
hands on my hips and I was sucked into the woven threads
I found myself walking slowly down a back street
In the French Quarter on a hot August night
I
Way back in Alabama where the dirt roads cut through the woods
And when it rains you can smell the steam off the grass
Even dew on the hood of my
hear it again today
You know my temperature's risin'
And the jukebox's blows a fuse
My heart's beatin' rhythm
And my soul keeps singing the blues
hear it again today
You know my temperature's risin'
And the jukebox's blows a fuse
My heart's beatin' rhythm
And my soul keeps singing the blues
_(1).jpg/300px-JukeboxTheGhost_DIAL_Paste_CortneyArmitage126A09952016_(1)_(1).jpg "Jukebox the Ghost")
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