كلمات Floorboard Blues

Look under his floorboards, Mama I don't trust his silly grin He's got a beat up Rambler with Nebraska plates I ain't getting 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 floorboards, Mama I don't like his suggestive tone The way the words drip from his mouth As he asks, Can I take you home I don't care how many miles I got I think I'd rather walk alone Than to sit in the back seat As his eyes in the mirror Reduce me to flesh and bone Check under his floorboards, Mama 'Cause that razor's not just a threat to me He'll be slicing tiny crescents from your heart Without laying a sweaty palm on your cheek Don't accuse me of running scared But listen to what I'm saying It's a fucked up old world but this ole girl Well, she ain't giving in