Roots

Well I went down the ole corner store to get my whistle pig rye Another night pick'n on a song and drink'n the bottle down dry If I had a nickel for every time I rot my brain to its root Then I wouldn't had to sell my soul to the man in the pitch black suit And it's down in the cellar play'n old school songs Stoned howl'n at the moon Blame it on the grind for that piece of pie Blame it all on my roots Now I should've known better but I still can't sit that bottle back down And my sweet friend I could windup dead push'n daisies from the cold hard ground But that sweet taste haunts me Always leaves me wanting Got me up in the dead of the night Well lord I'm a sucker for a good time And I might just be for life And it's down in the cellar play'n old school songs Stoned howl'n at the moon Blame it on the grind for that piece of pie Blame it all on my roots I swear to god I ain't ever gonna slow down Til the soles worn out of my boots Blame it on the grind for that piece of pie Blame it all on my roots And it's down in the cellar play'n old school songs Stoned howl'n at the moon Blame it on the grind for that piece of pie Blame it all on my roots I swear to god I ain't ever gonna slow down Til the soles worn out of my boots Blame it on the grind for that piece of pie Blame it all on my roots