Beth Hart
Beth Hart
Beth Hart
Beth Hart
Beth Hart
Beth Hart
Beth Hart
Beth Hart
Beth Hart
Beth Hart
Beth Hart
Beth Hart
Beth Hart
Beth Hart
Beth Hart
Silver blue hair and a cane in her hand
Living to die in the promised land
Handing out flyers for the coming of Christ
She says race from the fire for eternal life
Or they'll
Take your mind just to strip your faith
And they'll starve you with nothing that you already
And they'll compliment just to break you down
Spin you in circles running around and round
Good Old People live
Good Old People
A Coke bottle glasses and a smile on his face
He stands on the comer screaming, "don't mix the race"
Commanding all the children to confess all their sins
Then he beats his wife with a bottle of gin
And they'll
Whip your mind just to strip your faith
A counterfeit people coming to dominate
And they'll get you high just to greet you down
Spin you in circles moving round and round
Good Old People live
Good Old People give
Good Old People can't drive
And maybe that's why good people die
Maybe that's why
Maybe that's why
Maybe that's why
Good Old People
Good Old People
Good Old People live
Good Old People give
Good Old People can't drive
And maybe that's why good people die, yeah