Bullet Belt

Hey Daddy tell me 'bout the time you had to go to jail for smokin' pot
An Iron Maiden concert in a Carolina parkin' lot
Whoa
And when you had to listen to recordings on a record player
And your band all had to plug into a little amplifier
Just to hear over the drums
Hear over the drums
Hear over the drums
I can only hear the drums

Well 1969 to 1977
It was eight years of heaven 'hind the 7-11
Stayin' out all night
While we kept our engines revvin'
And we'd never make it home before dawn...
Maybe...
I'm not that crazy
I'm just playin' with the hand I was dealt
Maybe...
I'm not that crazy
I'm just a chip off the ol' bullet belt

Hey Mama tell me 'bout the time you would sneak out of your window
And you meet up with your other friends and smoke your cigarettes
And blow the smoke into another girl's mouth
Whoa
And how you drove across the country
With your stoner friends all in a van
To fill up all your mason jars with the west coast sand
West coast sand, west coast sand
West coast, west coast, California sand

Well 1969 to 1977
It was eight years of heaven 'hind the 7-11
Stayin' out all night
We kept our engines revvin'
And we'd never make it home before dawn...
Hair dyed black
A walkin' marshall stack
We'd play all night shows behind the chicken shack
Sittin' back to back
We were a heart attack'
Givin' the finger to the cops on the lawn
Maybe...
I'm not that crazy
I'm just playin' with the hand I was dealt
Maybe...
I'm not that crazy
I'm just a chip off the ol' bullet belt

Well 1969 to 1977
It was eight years of heaven 'hind the 7-11
Stayin' out all night
We kept our engines revvin'
And we'd never make it home before dawn...
Hair dyed black
A walkin' marshall stack
We'd play all night shows behind the chicken shack
Sittin' back to back
We were a heart attack'
Givin' the finger to the cops on the lawn
Maybe...
I'm not that crazy
I'm just playin' with the hand I was dealt
Maybe...
I'm not that crazy
I'm just a chip off the ol' bullet belt