I mean, Henry, come on
Do you think I'd really choose it?
All this off and on
Henry, come on
I mean, baby, come on
Do you think I'd really lose it on ya
If you did nothin' wrong?
Henry, come on

Last call, "Hey, y'all"
Hang his hat up on the wall
Tell him that his cowgirl is gone
Go on and giddy up
Soft leather, blue jeans
Call us into void's dreams
Return it but say it was fun

And it's not because of you
That I turned out so dangerous
Yesterday, I heard God say, "It's in your blood"
And it struck me just like lightning
I've been fightin', I've been strivin'
Yesterday, I heard God say
"You were born to be the one
To hold the hand of the man
Who flies too close to the sun"

I'll still be nice to your mom
It's not her fault you're leavin'
Some people come and they're gone
They just fly away
Take your ass to the house
Don't even bother explainin'
There's no workin' it out
No way

It's last call, "Hey, y'all"
Hang his hat up on the wall
Tell him that his cowgirl is gone
Go on and giddy up
Soft leather, blue jeans
Don't you get it? That's the thing
You can't chase a ghost when it's gone

And it's not because of you
That I turned out so dangerous
Yesterday, I heard God say, "It's in your blood"
And it struck me just like lightning
I've been fightin', I've been strivin'
But yesterday, I heard God say
"You were born to be the one
To hold the hand of the man
Who flies too close to the sun"

All these country singers
And their lonely rides to Houston
Doesn't really make for the best
You know, settle-down type

It's last call, "Hey, y'all"
Hang his hat up on the wall
Tell him that his cowgirl is gone
Go on and giddy up
Last call, "Hey, y'all"
Hang his hat up on the wall
Tell him that his cowgirl is gone
Go on and giddy up
Go on and giddy up
Go on and giddy up
Hey Writer/s: Elizabeth Woolridge Grant, Luke Laird
Publisher: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group
Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind