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Rodney DeCroo
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You Ain't No One
Dirt in your mouth, you wake up in a field,
sun beating down, it's getting kind of real,
you got no idea where you are,
a pack of matches from a roadside bar.
You ain't Steve Earle, you ain't Neil Young,
you ain't Bob Dylan, you ain't no one.
Blood on your shirt boy, you got blood on your jeans,
you don't know what you did ,but you know caused a scene,
your hands are cut up and your feet are too,
you stagger to the highway cause that's just what you do
when you ain't Steve Earle, you ain't Neil Young,
you ain't Bob Dylan, you ain't no one.
No one, no one's gonna write a book about you,
and no one, no one's gonna make a movie about you,
just another twisted idiot, another fuck up,
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out of luck, out of money, and out of love.
You never could get along,
drink in your hand, head full of songs,
some say they're good, some say they're bad,
it doesn't fucking matter,
cause they're all you fucking have.
You ain't Steve Earle, you ain't Neil Young,
you ain't Bob Dylan, you ain't no one.
No one, no one's gonna write a book about you,
and no one, no one's gonna make a movie about you,
just another twisted idiot, another fuck up,
out of luck, out of money, and out of love.
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