Bianca Casady & The C.I.A. - Poor Deal | Текст песни

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• Bianca Casady & The C.I.A.
• Poor Deal

My father made a deal with the devil
He promised to give me away
If the devil made him rich and handsome
He thought it was a small price to pay
So the devil, he come to get me
But my tears were way too salty
So he said, cut off her hands!
Cut ‘em off clear!
And I’ll be back next Tuesday

Oh my poor mother, she cried buckets
And then she mopped the kitchen floor
And she begged my daddy, call it all off
She begged him…
He said the deal with the devil
The deal is done.
My mother said babe, we’re leavin’
Pack your bags
Hush, don’t say a word
While your pa’s out day-drinkin’
We’ll make like winter birds

We could take a train
We could take a plane
We could take a car
Far from here
We better make haste
There’s no time to waste
Before the devil gets here

If God and the Devil are the same,
then who's your daddy now?

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