Those Poor Bastards - Hound's Bone | Текст песни

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• Those Poor Bastards
• Hound's Bone

Sittin’ at home on a Saturday night
Never had I felt so all alone
Dreamin’ of a gal who doesn’t exist
Gnawin’ on an old hound’s bone
Wonderin’ how to cleanse myself
Of the darkness in my soul
Sittin’ at home on a Saturday night
Gnawin’ on an old hound’s bone

Sittin’ at home on a Saturday night
Fillin’ my gills with booze
Drinkin’ it down and chokin’ it up
Either way I lose
Wonderin’ if this pain I feel
Is what folks call the blues
Sittin’ at home on a Saturday night
Gnawin’ on an old hound’s bone

Sittin’ at home on a Saturday night
Burnin’ old pictures in the fire
Thinkin’ of the skin of a pretty young thing
And feelin’ no desire
Wonderin’ how to start again
And tryin’ to atone
Sittin’ at home on a Saturday night
Gnawin’ on an old hound’s bone

Sittin’ at home on a Saturday night
Dialin’ old numbers on the phone
Even though the line is dead
I hear a distant drone
Wonderin’ how my skull would feel
If I smashed it with a stone
Sittin’ at home on a Saturday night
Gnawin’ on an old hound’s bone