The Blackwater Fever

Back Roads

The Blackwater Fever


Riding the back roads, 12 hounds on my trail
Closing in slowly, driving me straight to hell
I got it wound open, further then a clock strikes twelve
The devil is waiting, with open arms

Maybe I could change my ways, turn this all around
But a rackin’ and a ruin’, the only way I know how
Hell‘s around the corner and the walls are closing in
The devil is waiting, with open arms

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