#86 BURNING STOLEN BIBLES
#86 BURNING STOLEN BIBLES
(Americana)
(DEMO)
(Full Arrangement)
Now I’m burning stolen bibles
in a warehouse across the tracks,
Hear the sirens getting closer,
No way to take things back.
Toss more gas upon the book pile,
Watch the flames spark and soar.
Step back, try not to get burned,
Like that matters anymore.
Scant chance this one goes to trial,
Undone by her cold denial.
Lost a good job, chased a wild woman,
Now I’m burning stolen bibles.
There were also sirens that night,
Some stupid fight outside the bar.
Stranger walks up, sits down, grabs my smokes,
Takes one out, lights up, says "There you are."
Tight leather pants, half smile, dancing eyes
Hair cascade as she swung in her seat.
Straight jet-black with bright red roots,
Didn't slow me down for even a beat.
No way this one goes to trial,
Undone by her cold denial.
Tossed a good job, running with a wild woman,
And now I’m burning stolen bibles.
Liquor store hold-ups not enough to soothe her,
So then we're stealing trucks in Tuscaloosa.
Robbed the printing plant in Mountain Brook,
Loaded down with all those pallets of the good books.
Pried the safe open, eager for the cash,
Stepped back, dropped the crowbar with a crash,
She'd run off with the reason for the caper
Left me with only matches and all that paper.
Bound for somewhere, but it ain't trial
Sold my soul for her denial.
The devil's hands are never idle,
And now I’m burning stolen bibles.
Have judges, jailers waste their time on me?
Mister, that would be a shame.
Square my shoulders, raise my chin,
And walk into the flames.