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Lyric provided by www.seekalyric.com |
Get on with it Put off the fuss, you chickenshit Get on with it Can't you see it's time to quit? I seen three men hanging from a sycamore Thier bodies were stiff as a two by four And their heads were tilted down towards the ground And it aint been long since they been up there That thier bodies turned cold hangin in the air They mighta froze before that noose got to them Old scratch has dealt us a dirty hand He had the look of a saint but the greed of a man and his face was worn and wrinkled like a leather book And if I put this revolver to my head Will God turn against me instead of taking pity on a broken man? |