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lyrics

S.O.B.

We know exactly what you’ve done. This time you’ve gone too far
That man you shot square in the back, was this sweet girl’s dearest pa.
She’s hired me to bring you in and make you pay
Dead or alive it doesn’t matter either way
So fill your hands you son of a bitch, fill your hands you son of a bitch.
You’re gonna get what’s coming to you, You’re gonna get what’s coming to you

So you rode off into the hills. Didn’t think that you’d be found
Hope you and your boys have seen a priest, ‘cos I’m gonna put you in the ground
I’ll bring you peaceably or I can use brute force.
You can ride in a wooden box or strapped across your horse
So fill your hands you son of a bitch, fill your hands you son of a bitch.
You’re gonna get what’s coming to you, You’re gonna get what’s coming to you


I got good whisky on my breath, don’t underestimate a drunk,
I’m just too good at shooting straight and I never miss a punk (like you)
She’s hired me to bring you in and make you pay
Dead or alive it doesn’t matter either way
So fill your hands you son of a bitch, fill your hands you son of a bitch.
You’re gonna get what’s coming to you, You’re gonna get what’s coming to you

credits

from The Whole Half Truth (E​.​P​.​), released March 30, 2020

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Al Roberts England, UK

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