| Well my little brother’s raising hell
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| Living down in Texas
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| He probably ought to be in jail
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| From the stories that he tells us
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| Of whiskey nights and rodeos
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| The strippers down in Austin
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| He’s had himself some real good times
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| If he could just recall them
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| Now his money’s running low and there’s a job in his future
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| And it’s looking like his rambling days are done
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| Now’s he’s sizing up his choices and a job just ain’t one
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| He’ll know which way to run
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| As for you and winter, it may be cold
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| But that don’t stop the rain
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| The holes up in your roof
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| Make keeping dry a losing game
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| The stairwell’s always wet
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| But your wondering if my
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| Tears will dry up in your crying eyes
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| Now that boy, he’s coming home
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| But that just ain’t that good for you
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| Starting in then long ago
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| You know that much is true
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| So dry your eyes
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| And say goodbye
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| Because he just ain’t the one
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| Decide which way to run
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| Gonna to decide which way to run
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| As for me, the same old shit
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| Is putting me on down
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| I never been quite able
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| To pick myself up off the ground
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| Always got big plans
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| But they’re always in the works
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| And I swear they’ll pay off
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| If my love don’t get out first
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| Well here I am again
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| I don’t know if I’m right
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| But I can tell you that I’m having fun
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| So I give him one more shot
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| Because this race, it ain’t quite done
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| I hit the ground and run
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| Gonna to hit the ground and run
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| Gonna decide which way to run
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| Gonna to hit the ground and run
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| And my little brother’s raising hell
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| Living down in Texas |