One, two, one, two, three, four

City slicker, play that role all night

But when you get home

I bet you lie in bed and you cry, cry, cry

'Cause those boots don't fit your soul

Pretty pictures painted gold

To hide from what you already know

But then it rains when you put 'em up to dry, dry, dry

So all that's left is your closet of bones

All that's left is your closet of bones

I been trying to wrap my head

Around your wicked witchy life

But I ain't cut out for these social lights

(One, two, three, four)

Don't pick up my six-string if you don't know how to play

You wouldn't know rock 'n' roll if it smacked you across your face

Sinners, saints, and mixed drinks, they all meet up at one place

And the night won't end for most of them 'til the darkness turns to the day

'Til the darkness turns to the day

I been trying to wrap my head

Around your wicked witchy life

But I ain't cut out for these social lights

Da-da-da-da-da-da-da

Da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da (Ayy)

Da-da-da-da-da-da-da

Da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da

Da-da-da-da-da

Da-da-da-da-da

Walk the town, all I see

Crooked smiles looking back at me

Hollow eyes, heartless sleeves

Living in a make-believe, yeah