American Saint Lyrics
| Song | American Saint |
| Artist | Bleu Edmondson |
| Album | Live at Billy Bob's Texas |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Baker, Edmondson | |
| The Concho Valley is on fire tonight | |
| It's spilling out into the streets | |
| The blessed scream of a newborn dream | |
| Making love in my backseat | |
| All of us together in the glow of the dusty headlights | |
| All the little pretties with the stars in their hair | |
| Sipping Titos and Crystal Light | |
| It's another round of sound checks and train wrecks | |
| The lost boys and the rejects | |
| Fallen angels dancing to the music drifting softly on the Southern wind | |
| Talking like the heroes that we wont be | |
| Spittin out the game that little Jimmy sold me | |
| Fighting for each other though it seems like we'll never win | |
| American Saint | |
| American Saint | |
| Now Philly Joe lives west of Alice | |
| The hippy prince of the wild | |
| He got pinched for possession in a real hard land | |
| But he never lost his style | |
| He still works the rigs, 6 months out of the year | |
| Old Crow fever, a story to tell, and a menthol behind his ear | |
| It's another round of sound checks and train wrecks | |
| The lost boys and the rejects | |
| Fallen angels dancing to the music drifting softly on the Southern wind | |
| Talking like the heroes that we wont be | |
| Spittin out the game that little Jimmy sold me | |
| Fighting for each other though it seems like we'll never win | |
| American Saint | |
| American Saint | |
| Now Im north of Waxahachie | |
| Wondering where I go from here | |
| The Baptists say, if I don't change | |
| Then I won't see next year | |
| It's another round of sound checks and train wrecks | |
| The lost boys and the rejects | |
| Fallen angels dancing to the music drifting softly on the Southern wind | |
| Talking like the heroes that we wont be | |
| Spittin out the game that little Jimmy sold me | |
| Fighting for each other though it seems like we'll never win | |
| American Saint |
| zuo qu : Baker, Edmondson | |
| The Concho Valley is on fire tonight | |
| It' s spilling out into the streets | |
| The blessed scream of a newborn dream | |
| Making love in my backseat | |
| All of us together in the glow of the dusty headlights | |
| All the little pretties with the stars in their hair | |
| Sipping Titos and Crystal Light | |
| It' s another round of sound checks and train wrecks | |
| The lost boys and the rejects | |
| Fallen angels dancing to the music drifting softly on the Southern wind | |
| Talking like the heroes that we wont be | |
| Spittin out the game that little Jimmy sold me | |
| Fighting for each other though it seems like we' ll never win | |
| American Saint | |
| American Saint | |
| Now Philly Joe lives west of Alice | |
| The hippy prince of the wild | |
| He got pinched for possession in a real hard land | |
| But he never lost his style | |
| He still works the rigs, 6 months out of the year | |
| Old Crow fever, a story to tell, and a menthol behind his ear | |
| It' s another round of sound checks and train wrecks | |
| The lost boys and the rejects | |
| Fallen angels dancing to the music drifting softly on the Southern wind | |
| Talking like the heroes that we wont be | |
| Spittin out the game that little Jimmy sold me | |
| Fighting for each other though it seems like we' ll never win | |
| American Saint | |
| American Saint | |
| Now Im north of Waxahachie | |
| Wondering where I go from here | |
| The Baptists say, if I don' t change | |
| Then I won' t see next year | |
| It' s another round of sound checks and train wrecks | |
| The lost boys and the rejects | |
| Fallen angels dancing to the music drifting softly on the Southern wind | |
| Talking like the heroes that we wont be | |
| Spittin out the game that little Jimmy sold me | |
| Fighting for each other though it seems like we' ll never win | |
| American Saint |
| zuò qǔ : Baker, Edmondson | |
| The Concho Valley is on fire tonight | |
| It' s spilling out into the streets | |
| The blessed scream of a newborn dream | |
| Making love in my backseat | |
| All of us together in the glow of the dusty headlights | |
| All the little pretties with the stars in their hair | |
| Sipping Titos and Crystal Light | |
| It' s another round of sound checks and train wrecks | |
| The lost boys and the rejects | |
| Fallen angels dancing to the music drifting softly on the Southern wind | |
| Talking like the heroes that we wont be | |
| Spittin out the game that little Jimmy sold me | |
| Fighting for each other though it seems like we' ll never win | |
| American Saint | |
| American Saint | |
| Now Philly Joe lives west of Alice | |
| The hippy prince of the wild | |
| He got pinched for possession in a real hard land | |
| But he never lost his style | |
| He still works the rigs, 6 months out of the year | |
| Old Crow fever, a story to tell, and a menthol behind his ear | |
| It' s another round of sound checks and train wrecks | |
| The lost boys and the rejects | |
| Fallen angels dancing to the music drifting softly on the Southern wind | |
| Talking like the heroes that we wont be | |
| Spittin out the game that little Jimmy sold me | |
| Fighting for each other though it seems like we' ll never win | |
| American Saint | |
| American Saint | |
| Now Im north of Waxahachie | |
| Wondering where I go from here | |
| The Baptists say, if I don' t change | |
| Then I won' t see next year | |
| It' s another round of sound checks and train wrecks | |
| The lost boys and the rejects | |
| Fallen angels dancing to the music drifting softly on the Southern wind | |
| Talking like the heroes that we wont be | |
| Spittin out the game that little Jimmy sold me | |
| Fighting for each other though it seems like we' ll never win | |
| American Saint |
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