Untitled Letra

Long Winters, The

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There's a shanty in a town on a little plot of ground
where the green grass grows all around, all around,
and the roof's so torn so badly worn
it touches to the ground.
Just a tumbledown shack that sits way back
about twenty-five feet from the railroad track;
hanging on the line most all the time
keeps calling me back to my little grass shack.

I'd be just as sassy as Haile Selassie,
if I were a king it wouldn't mean a thing.
Put my boots on tall, read the writing on the wall,
and it wouldn't mean a thing, not a doggone thing.
There's a queen waiting there in a rocking chair,
just blowing her stack on Raineer beer,
and I'm looking all around and I'm trucking on down
'cause I gotta get back to my shanty town.

I'd be just as sassy as Haile Selassie,
if I were a king it wouldn't mean a thing.
Put my boots on tall, read the writing on the wall,
and it wouldn't mean a thing, not a doggone thing.
There's a queen waiting there in a rocking chair,
just blowing her stack on Raineer beer,
and I'm looking all around and I'm trucking on down
'cause I gotta get back to my shanty town,
I gotta get back to my shanty town.