Exile On Mainline

Get god dammit

Son of a bitch I’ll kill ‘ya right there

Will ‘ya get

God damn move when I say move you motherfucker

Hundred dollar demon in my pocket

And it's scraping a hole

Digging up a bruise that darkens

Calibrated to go

Down down down

And your grip is slipping

Down down down

And the page is ripping

Wasting the world away

At the bite of your touch

The wash of the passing days seeping out

Doesn't matter that much

Drowning out no sound

Pouring out upon the ground

Raining down the drain

Down down down

Morning shakes and you're fadin' away

Down, down, slowly down

Metal stress and it's shearing away

Round and around and around to the ground

And I'm stumbling, tripping

Down

Jerk around

And the record's skipping

And the record's skipping

And the record's skipping

Skipping, skipping, skipping

And the record's skipping