Paroles de la chanson 16 Shells from a Thirty-Ought Six par Tom Waits
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Paroles de la chanson 16 Shells from a Thirty-Ought Six par Tom Waits
I plugged 16 shells from a thirty-ought-six
And the Black Crow snuck through a hole in the sky
So I spent all my buttons on an old pack mule
Oh, and I made me a ladder from a pawn shop marimba
And I leaned it up against a dandelion tree
Leaned it up against a dandelion tree
Leaned it up against a dandelion tree
I'm gonna cook them feathers on a tire iron spit
And I filled me a satchel full of old pig corn
And I beat me a billy from an old French horn
Oh, and I kicked that mule to the top of the tree
Kicked that mule to the top of the tree
And I blew me a hole 'bout the size of a kickdrum
And the Black Crow snuck through a hole in the sky
So I spent all my buttons on an old pack mule
Oh, and I made me a ladder from a pawn shop marimba
And I leaned it up against a dandelion tree
Leaned it up against a dandelion tree
Leaned it up against a dandelion tree
I'm gonna cook them feathers on a tire iron spit
And I filled me a satchel full of old pig corn
And I beat me a billy from an old French horn
Oh, and I kicked that mule to the top of the tree
Kicked that mule to the top of the tree
And I blew me a hole 'bout the size of a kickdrum
And I cut me a switch from a long branch elbow
I'm gonna whittle you into kindlin'
Black Crow, sixteen shells from a thirty-ought-six
Whittle you into kindlin'
Black Crow, sixteen shells from a thirty-ought-six
Well, I slept in the holler of a dry creek bed
And I tore out the bucket from a red Corvette
Tore out the bucket from a red Corvette
Lionel and Dave and the Butcher made three
Oh, you got to meet me by the knuckles of the skinnybone tree
With the strings of a Washburn stretched like a clothes line
Oh, you know me and that mule scrambled right through the hole
I'm gonna whittle you into kindlin'
Black Crow, sixteen shells from a thirty-ought-six
Whittle you into kindlin'
Black Crow, sixteen shells from a thirty-ought-six
Well, I slept in the holler of a dry creek bed
And I tore out the bucket from a red Corvette
Tore out the bucket from a red Corvette
Lionel and Dave and the Butcher made three
Oh, you got to meet me by the knuckles of the skinnybone tree
With the strings of a Washburn stretched like a clothes line
Oh, you know me and that mule scrambled right through the hole
Me and that mule scrambled right through the hole
I'm gonna whittle you into kindlin'
Black Crow, sixteen shells from a thirty-ought-six
Whittle you into kindlin'
Black Crow, sixteen shells from a thirty-ought-six
Now I hold him prisoner in a Washburn jail
That I strapped on the back of my old kick mule
Strapped on the back of my old kick mule
I bang on the strings just to drive him crazy
Oh, I strum it loud to rattle his cage
I strum it loud just to rattle his cage
Strum it loud just to rattle his cage
Strum it loud just to rattle his cage
I'm gonna whittle you into kindlin'
Black Crow, sixteen shells from a thirty-ought-six
Whittle you into kindlin'
Black Crow, sixteen shells from a thirty-ought-six
Now I hold him prisoner in a Washburn jail
That I strapped on the back of my old kick mule
Strapped on the back of my old kick mule
I bang on the strings just to drive him crazy
Oh, I strum it loud to rattle his cage
I strum it loud just to rattle his cage
Strum it loud just to rattle his cage
Strum it loud just to rattle his cage
Oh, I'm gonna whittle you into kindlin'
Black Crow, sixteen shells from a thirty-ought-six
Whittle you into kindlin'
Black Crow, sixteen shells from a thirty-ought-six
Black Crow, sixteen shells from a thirty-ought-six
Whittle you into kindlin'
Black Crow, sixteen shells from a thirty-ought-six
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