Whoa I drink pots and pots and pots and pots of strong black coffeenTrying to keep my sleepy soul awakenBut the sleepiness still comes along and when it does its fast and strongnI end up with a bad case of the shakesnnAnd my baby tells me honey cut it outnCuz she's familiar with the bend before the breaknBut she's in this runaway with me and by god were doing fiftynComin' round that hairpin turn atop of wolf creeknnNow I called Olly Olly Olly Olly Oxen FreenTryin' to draw god out from his hiding placenEither he can't hear what I'm saying or he just got sick of playingnEither way, I'll be calling out like this for daysnnAnd the cadence and the chords are all the samenSo I get anthem from a child in the streetsnAnd you know he ain't much for singing, but by god he's good at swingingnAnd that's the reason that he won't stay obsoletennAnd that's why he's singing, how, how long, how long must I waitnHe's singing, how, how long, how long will this whole thing takenCuz everyday it's getting tougher to shoot straightnnWell I've read page, after page, after page, afters pagenAbout this killer instinct inside of menBut love it, or hate it, praise it or berate itnIt's just what comes out most naturallynnAnd they warn me kid you'll run it in the groundnIf you keep on saying all the same things the same waynBut I ain't trying to make friendsnI'm just trying to make this story endnnAnd if you're drinking then you don't got time to pleadnnAnd that's why I'm singing, how, how long, how long, must I waitnI'm singing, how, how long, how long will this whole thing takennCuz everyday it's getting tougher to shoot straight