Lyrics I wrote for a blues song I had in mind.
Please excuse the $8 line-in mic, and my nasal congestion. I know that's such a typical excuse, but I've got nothin' better. |p


Back Around

Well, my lady- she’s a demon
She makes me want to cry
I tell her that I’m leaving
So someone tell me why

She comes back around
Oh, she comes on back around

I’m just ready to forget her,
I wanna hit the town!
She comes back around

Well, my buddy- he’s a pinhead
I don’t know where to begin
I always leave the fool for dead
With his whisky, rum, and gin!

But he comes back around
Oh, he comes on back around

I just can’t seem to lose them,
My lady and the clown
They come back around

Oh, my habit is a killer
My cigarette disease
It don’t matter if I’m willing
My smokes don’t ever leave!

They come back around
Oh, they come on back around

Well whenever they run out
I find some money on the ground
They come back around

Well, mistakes come back to get me
I guess I’ve got to pay
I’ve tried to keep them hidden
But they never go away

They come back around
Oh, they come on back around

I promise- if you give me
Some time to work it out-
I’ll come back around