Tongue Slap Your Brains Out
Mackenzie Ruth Scott
Knowing you were laundry-folding just outside the bedroom door, I slept near it
Knowing you would carry half the hapless buzzing of my dilated spirit
I know you never dreamed I'd become a damn Yankee
I need you to believe that I'm still your same baby
No feeling like finding a peach cobbler sunning belly-up on the granite
The kind that'll make your tongue slap all your brains out
I know you never dreamed I'd become a damn Yankee
I need you to believe that I'm still your same baby
I know you never dreamed I'd become a damn Yankee
If you could only see, it's still the Georgia winds that move me
