Song parody of
Super 8
by Jason Isbell
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Don’t want to die in a Super 8 Motel
Just because somebody’s evening didn’t go so well
If I ever get back to Bristol
I’m better off sleeping in a county jail
Don’t want to die in a super 8 Motel
Having such a sweet night
Audience is just right
Drinking like a pirate do
Don’t want to sleep yet
Buddy it’s a good bet
I’ll raise more hell than you
Do a couple rails
And chase your own tail
And talk about the bad old days
Trimmer in a t-shirt
Telling me her heart hurt
Honey let me count the ways
Then a big boy busted in
Screaming at his girlfriend
Waving around a Fungo bat
Bass player stepping up
Brandishing a coffee cup
Took it in the baby fat
I don’t want to die in a Super 8 Motel
Just because somebody’s evening didn’t go so well
If I ever get back to Bristol
I’m better off sleeping in a county jail
I don’t want to die in a Super 8 Motel
Well I finally got the room clear
Bleeding from the left ear
Feeling pretty bad for the maid
Lost a couple drinks and my dinners in a sink
Woke up with the bed still made
Wasn’t quite morning and I wasn’t quite breathing
My heart way up in my throat
The Girl starts screaming and the maid starts screaming
And it looks like it’s all she wrote
Well they slapped me back to life
And they telephoned my wife
And they filled me full of Pedialyte
Some are guts some are glory
And it would make a great story
If I ever could remember it right
I don’t want to die in a Super 8 Motel
Just because somebody’s evening didn’t go so well
If I ever get back to Bristol
I'm better off sleeping in a county jail
I don’t want to die in a Super 8 Motel
I don’t want to die in a Super 8 Motel
Don’t want to die in a Super 8 Motel
Just because somebody’s evening didn’t go so well
If I ever get back to Bristol
I’m better off sleeping in a county jail
Don’t want to die in a super 8 Motel
Having such a sweet night
Audience is just right
Drinking like a pirate do
Don’t want to sleep yet
Buddy it’s a good bet
I’ll raise more hell than you
Do a couple rails
And chase your own tail
And talk about the bad old days
Trimmer in a t-shirt
Telling me her heart hurt
Honey let me count the ways
Then a big boy busted in
Screaming at his girlfriend
Waving around a Fungo bat
Bass player stepping up
Brandishing a coffee cup
Took it in the baby fat
I don’t want to die in a Super 8 Motel
Just because somebody’s evening didn’t go so well
If I ever get back to Bristol
I’m better off sleeping in a county jail
I don’t want to die in a Super 8 Motel
Well I finally got the room clear
Bleeding from the left ear
Feeling pretty bad for the maid
Lost a couple drinks and my dinners in a sink
Woke up with the bed still made
Wasn’t quite morning and I wasn’t quite breathing
My heart way up in my throat
The Girl starts screaming and the maid starts screaming
And it looks like it’s all she wrote
Well they slapped me back to life
And they telephoned my wife
And they filled me full of Pedialyte
Some are guts some are glory
And it would make a great story
If I ever could remember it right
I don’t want to die in a Super 8 Motel
Just because somebody’s evening didn’t go so well
If I ever get back to Bristol
I'm better off sleeping in a county jail
I don’t want to die in a Super 8 Motel
I don’t want to die in a Super 8 Motel
