Weary Kind, The

Your heart’s on the loose. You rolled them sevens with nothing to lose
And this ain’t no place for the weary kind

You called all your shots shooting eight ball at the corner truck stop
Somehow this don’t feel like home any more

Instrumental

Your body aches playing your guitar and sweating out the hate
The days and the nights all feel the same

Whiskey has been a thorn in your side and it doesn’t forget
The highway that calls for your heart inside

Repeat Chorus

Your lovers won’t kiss. It’s too damn far from your fingertips
You are the man that ruined her world

Your heart’s on the loose. You rolled them seven’s with nothing to lose
And this ain’t no place for the weary kind