Everybody's praying for the rains to come
And the snow is gonna fall, down on me
Lost up in the desert with a gun in my hand
And the locust gonna come to find me.
Started long ago, in my paper cup saloon
And the back-room boys still carrying that same old tune
We've just one bottle left, standing on the shelf
I'd better bring it on up, I'd better bring it on up on me
Time to get the wagon, and in the back of the car