This guitar could tell you things
That not even my family would believe.
And believe me
Theyll believe just about anything

Cause believe me
Theyve heard it before.

Can we make it good again?
Can we make it good again?

Well I am laying down tonight
Like it was snowing outside
but there aint no holiday tomorrow
Im just coming home.

Momma im coming home
Momma im coming home.

This ones going in the ditch
This ones stinging like a bitch
This ones gonna make em itch
So heres to hopin you get rich.

Heres one for the middle
And for all the times
I seen you smile.
And for our little child
We aint never gonna have.
Heres one for the middle
Of your street
Where we laid down
Like we were layin down our lives.
So put your guns away!
So put your guns down
And melt away.