Floorboard Blues Lyrics
| Song | Floorboard Blues |
| Artist | Cowboy Junkies |
| Album | Pale Sun Crescent Moon |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Timmins | |
| Check under his floorboard, mama | |
| I don't trust his silly grin | |
| He's got a beat up rambler, | |
| Nebraska plates | |
| I ain't gettin' in | |
| I don't like the way his pinky ring | |
| Picks up the dashboard light | |
| Or his short little piggy fingers | |
| Or the way his belt is cinched too tight | |
| Check under his floorboard, mama | |
| I don't like his suggestive tone | |
| The way his words drip from his mouth | |
| As he asks, "Can I take you home?" | |
| I don't care how many miles | |
| I gotI think | |
| I'd rather walk them alone | |
| Than to sit in the back seat | |
| As his eyes in the mirror | |
| Reduce me to flesh and bone | |
| Check under his floorboard, mama' | |
| Cause that razor's not just a threat to me | |
| He'll be slicin' tiny crescents from your heart | |
| Without layin' a sweaty palm on your cheek | |
| Don't accuse me of runnin' scared | |
| Listen to what | |
| I'm sayin' | |
| It's a fucked up ol' world but this ol' girl | |
| Well, she ain't givin' in |
| zuo qu : Timmins | |
| Check under his floorboard, mama | |
| I don' t trust his silly grin | |
| He' s got a beat up rambler, | |
| Nebraska plates | |
| I ain' t gettin' in | |
| I don' t like the way his pinky ring | |
| Picks up the dashboard light | |
| Or his short little piggy fingers | |
| Or the way his belt is cinched too tight | |
| Check under his floorboard, mama | |
| I don' t like his suggestive tone | |
| The way his words drip from his mouth | |
| As he asks, " Can I take you home?" | |
| I don' t care how many miles | |
| I gotI think | |
| I' d rather walk them alone | |
| Than to sit in the back seat | |
| As his eyes in the mirror | |
| Reduce me to flesh and bone | |
| Check under his floorboard, mama' | |
| Cause that razor' s not just a threat to me | |
| He' ll be slicin' tiny crescents from your heart | |
| Without layin' a sweaty palm on your cheek | |
| Don' t accuse me of runnin' scared | |
| Listen to what | |
| I' m sayin' | |
| It' s a fucked up ol' world but this ol' girl | |
| Well, she ain' t givin' in |
| zuò qǔ : Timmins | |
| Check under his floorboard, mama | |
| I don' t trust his silly grin | |
| He' s got a beat up rambler, | |
| Nebraska plates | |
| I ain' t gettin' in | |
| I don' t like the way his pinky ring | |
| Picks up the dashboard light | |
| Or his short little piggy fingers | |
| Or the way his belt is cinched too tight | |
| Check under his floorboard, mama | |
| I don' t like his suggestive tone | |
| The way his words drip from his mouth | |
| As he asks, " Can I take you home?" | |
| I don' t care how many miles | |
| I gotI think | |
| I' d rather walk them alone | |
| Than to sit in the back seat | |
| As his eyes in the mirror | |
| Reduce me to flesh and bone | |
| Check under his floorboard, mama' | |
| Cause that razor' s not just a threat to me | |
| He' ll be slicin' tiny crescents from your heart | |
| Without layin' a sweaty palm on your cheek | |
| Don' t accuse me of runnin' scared | |
| Listen to what | |
| I' m sayin' | |
| It' s a fucked up ol' world but this ol' girl | |
| Well, she ain' t givin' in |
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