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Steve Young - Rock Salt And Nails



By the banks of the river where the willows grow old
And the wild birds warble the strange-soundin' song
By the banks of the river where the waters run cold
Was there I first listened to the lies that you told

Now I lay here each night all alone and I weep
And nothin' ain't worse than a night without sleep
The letters you wrote me they're written in shame
But I know that your conscience still echoes my name

Now if the ladies were blackbirds and the ladies were thrushes
I'd lay for hours in the cold rainy marshes
If the ladies were squirrels with big bushy tails
I'd fill up my shotgun with a rock salt and nails
I'd fill up my shotgun with a rock salt and nails