Lyrics Wrong Town - Steve Poltz
You′re
about
to
watch
a
show
starring
me
I
don't
know
what
you′re
about
to
hear
or
see
The
truth
is
I
have
no
plan
at
all
There's
a
good
chance
that
off
this
stage
I
fall
My
body
ain't
what
it
quite
used
to
be
My
hair
ain′t
the
colour
it
once
was
My
style
icon
is
Emmylou
Harris
Mixed
with
a
little
Don
Was
I
lie
on
stage,
I
lie
in
songs,
I
lay
my
troubles
down
Hey,
stick
it
out
with
me,
kid
I
mean,
what
else
is
there
to
do
In
this
godforsaken,
deep-fried-bacon
town?
Yeah,
you
bought
the
tickets,
you
paid
the
cash
You
got
in
your
car,
you
moved
your
ass
You
brought
a
friend
or
an
an
awkward
date
To
something
you
love
that
they′re
probably
gonna
hate
It's
music,
sweet
music
I′m
emo,
I'm
screamo
I′m
country
and
I'm
folk
Americana
If
you
wanna,
I′m
old-fashioned
but
I'm
woke
I'm
everything
to
everyone
I′m
Jesus
and
I′m
booted
too
Don't
panic,
I′m
organic
I'm
too
scared
to
be
satanic
But
mostly,
I′m
just
here
to
sing
for
you
Well,
I
played
a
lot
of
shows
across
this
world
But,
tonight's
the
best
I′ll
ever
play
I'm
handing
you
a
pearl
My
g-string
might
snap
in
two
My
face
might
turn
from
red
to
white
to
blue
But,
it's
not
because
I′m
dying,
hey,
I′m
just
patriotic
When
we
all
connect
like
LEGOs
Yeah,
we
all
are
symbiotic
I
die
on
stage,
I
die
in
songs,
I
throw
my
troubles
down
Hey,
stick
it
out
with
me,
kid
I
mean,
what
else
is
there
to
do
In
this
craft-beer-makin',
earthquake-shakin′
town?
Yeah,
you
bought
the
tickets,
you
paid
the
cash
You
got
in
your
car,
you
moved
your
ass
You
brought
a
friend
or
an
an
awkward
date
To
something
you
love
that
they're
definitely
gonna
hate
It′s
music,
sweet
music
I'm
emo,
I′m
screamo
Oh,
I'm
grateful
dead-post-stroke
Americana
If
you
wanna,
I'm
old-fashioned
but
I′m
broke
I′m
everything
to
everyone
I'm
Jesus
and
I′m
booted
too
Don't
panic,
I′m
organic
I'm
too
scared
to
be
satanic
But
mostly,
I′m
here
to
sing
for
you
Well,
I
know
what
you're
thinking,
"What
the
hell?"
This
guy
just
wrote
a
whole
entire
song
about
himself
And
the
truth
is,
I
do
it
all
the
time
Well,
for
me,
it's
therapeutic
and
I
hope
that
you
don′t
mind
Well,
I
probably
owe
you
money
′Cause
you're
my
therapist
But,
I′m
kinda'
like
your
escort
away
from
all
of
this
I
cry
on
stage,
I
cry
in
songs,
I
try
to
work
it
out
Hey,
stick
it
out
with
me,
kid
I
mean,
what
else
is
there
to
do
In
this
hemp-clothes-makin′,
tincture-takin',
sourdough
bakin′
Late-day-wakin',
spare-change-takin',
traffic-makin′
Release-the-kraken,
I-must-be-mistaken
I′m-in-the-wrong
town?
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