Well I'll take two shots said the devil to the man
and layed a little book on the bar
well lord knows the devil he only talks shit
and only drinks whiskey from the jar
and his hands were raw and his eyes were cold
and his breath was pure alcohol and the sound of his voice it never got old
and he talked and talked and talked through the night
kept sippin his shine till the mornin' light
tumbled in through the shades and as he started to go
i put three bullets in his back.
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