Picking for the waitstaff again. Baring my soul up on stage, where my guitars my only friend

Slurring the words to a hit song, from a bottle that never ends

Mama says Roy, before the devil does ya in

Lord don't let me die in a cheap motel, Gideon's bible on the nightstand cant save me from the gates of hell

Nothing more to offer no more soul to sell, lord don't let me die in a cheap motel



Took em from their homes when they were young

Five times I married, had kids with every one

Never raised a hand in anger, scarred em just the same

Mama said Roy, get home boy, your playing the devils game



Washed in the blood of the lamb

Laying in the bathtub, with a pistol in my hand.

Waiting on the reaper, to make my final stand.

Mama said Roy; get after boy, your playing in the devil's band