I was born to have my hair in the breeze
with a cigarette in my mouth and a beer between my knees
talking to girls like any bad boy would
touching tithes in my mind and using real bad words
------
Red red red on the head
red on the head like a dick on a dog
------
I was just a pistol mamma' couldn't control
man, she used to try and love me but she don't anymore
and I'm diseased and dangerous but I feel just fine
I'm a mean mother-scratcher and I don't mind dying
------
Like red red red on the head
red on the head like the dick on a dog
------
and when I die I'm gonna' take my test
and I'll be flying with them angels once I cash my check
then I'll be reincarnated and I'll come on back
ready for the second coming/world under attack….
supported by 12 fans who also own “Red On The Head”
This is a wonderful album. It is personal, senitive, and caring. I love to here Sturgill sing, and wish had found him earlier. I thsnk wnku for playing local artists. I lived in Jackson Ky. And know how sad the drugs have made so many hometowns. Keep singing you are great. carolfaulkner
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