87 Southbound

I caught you with him

On them damp, slick, sticky, satin sheets

Then I packed my things and then I hit the streets

87 southbound, to San Anton'

You got your baby, I got no home

The pavements burnin', at a hundred and two

I don't need to hear no more excuses, but I don't need

you

Lord the sun keeps beatin' me down, and it's hotter'n

hell

And if I'm a lucky I'll catch a ride, but you can't

never tell

I'd rather be here with the bugs and flies, then back

there hearin' your alibis

I heard all that I'm gonna hear you say, I gonna take

my pride and go the other way

87 southbound, to San Anton'

It's getting late out, I'm forty miles from home

The rain keeps a fallin', like the tears of my eyes

Just tryin' to wash away the hurt from all your lies

(yeah daddy)

And lightnin' streaks across the evenin' sky

And if I'm a lucky (it'll make you?) laid right down

and die

I know when the morning comes, I'll still be a walking

son-of-a-gun

When afternoon comes rolls around, I'll have ten more

miles and one more town

No I don't need to hear no more excuses, but I don't

love you