Jim White Alabama Chrome Letras:
Sunday I am young and wild, Monday I go lame.
Tuesday I start twitching, Wednesday I'm insane.
Thursday I lay dying, Friday I'm quite dead.
Saturday I get carried away by things better left
unsaid. But heaven ain't no place, brother, and
love ain't no word sister. And prison ain't no
building made of iron bars and stone. You can seek
the rhyme and reason, but in the realm of the
unknown you won't catch no true reflections in
that "Alabama Chrome." For there's
mountains you will scale with ease, yet molehills
where you stumble. Sins you so regret and yet
other sins that you enjoy. Harps can beg
forgiveness, and the guitars can scream pain, but
the contradictions are larger than any language
can explain. For in the secret territory where the
preachers come to steal the jewel of your heart,
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for they have no treasure of their own, there lies
a sacred window, in your hand the perfect stone.
You'd throw it, but you arms are bound 'round with
that "Alabama Chrome." The heat it is
withering, humidity smothering. Strip of silver
tape, a sly lie covering dent in the side of the
redneck ride. Going deep for the Crimson Tide.
Yeah! Gonna bump to the thump of the Selma
slammer. Wanna jump up and down like a wack
jackhammer. Sing a little 'Sweet Home Alabama' -
Jimmy gimme wink like a big flimflammer. Bone
tired and so weary of treating truth as a lie, I
been hunkered down in the bunker of some fools
alibi. Squint harder you will see the slim tether
of the saints. It's whipping wild in the hurricane
of all that is and all that ain't. 'Cause there's
angels in the shed mother and spiders in the bed
brother and ghosts inside my head father, no I am
not alone. My mind is teeth without a mouth, my
thoughts are marrow without bone. My eyes are
blinded by a thousand layers of that god damn
"Alabama Chrome."
Letras: Alabama Chrome Jim White [final]