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Bite the Bullet

from American Rhymin by Matt Monta

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lyrics

We ain't gonna mess around with them industry kings
Even though we know the reasons why
All of them blackbirds sing.
The gunfire echo down the hillside
It don't tell no sorry tales
Like the time the things that your mother owned
All went up for sale.

And we all gotta bite the bullet sometime.

Your dinner candle's a-burnin down
And your beans are gettin cold
And the walls are leakin to the halls
And all your secrets are getting told.
Your lone protector, he got shot out
And well, boy, you know he died
Cause they shut off the lights inside your house
And disconnected your telephone lines.

And we all gotta bite the bullet sometime.

We might let our guard down
To try and love a man
By the raisin of his eyebrows
Or with the wavin of his hand
Now they're getting all their trucks in line
They're paintin them passports blue
And they're pullin down the kings
While the blackbirds sing
Cause that's what they were told to do.

And we all gotta bite the bullet sometime.

credits

from American Rhymin, released March 25, 2013

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Matt Monta Richmond, Virginia

Voice for singing. Guitar for strumming. Harmonica for wailing. Boots for stomping.

Honest songs from a hard-working heartland.

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