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Chuck Prophet

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Chuck Prophet

Automatic Blues

作词：Chuck Prophet

Well, some things I'm built for fixin'
Make more sense to throw away
The touch of something human
What I really crave

Oh, just give me one thing
I can sink my heart into
Not another measure
Of these automatic blues, come on, come on

Well, the preacher preached the sermon
Sinners bow their heads
Sometimes I feel so alive
I wish I was dead

You might be on your back somewhere, baby
Too beaten up in your pew
Would Sunday lift the curtain
On the automatic blues? Come on

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Hey, turn me on, turn me off
Turn me out, turn me on
I said, turn me off, turn me on
Turn me out, turn me on

I feel like a pair of sneakers
In a washing machine
I'm bouncing off the walls
Trapped in the heap

Goddamn, thermostat's gone crazy
I woke up with the flu
Wrapped up in a blanket
With the automatic blues, come on

Hey, come on
Get a hold on me
Get a hold on me
I want somebody to tell me
Where can my baby be