Featured In
Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Eric Church
Vocals
Jay Joyce
Electric Guitar
Lee Hendricks
Bass
Craig Wright
Drums
Jeff Hyde
Acoustic Guitar
Bryan Sutton
Mandolin
Joanna Cotten
Background Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Eric Church
Songwriter
Casey Beathard
Songwriter
Monty Criswell
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Jay Joyce
Producer
Arturo Buenahora, Jr.
Executive Producer
Jason Hall
Engineer
Matt Wheeler
Assistant Recording Engineer
Andrew Mendelson
Mastering Engineer
Lyrics
This town, she is a temptress
A siren with gold eyes, she'll cut you with her kindness
She will lead you with her lies
She's been called a glistening devil
She's good at keeping score
If you make it she's your savior, if you don't she's a whore
The roads to and from her heart are littered with grave souls
They gave all of their all and all they got in return is empty holes
Sure we've all heard about Shell, and Chris, Willy, and Bobby Bares
She'd smiled on Johnny's the Merles any music-wrote billionaires
Like a beacon she goes seeking seed, her loins so fertile
To a free man she's a prison, to a caged one she's a fire
She's the reason there's a Sunday morning coming down
I saw the light, a boy named Sue, he stopped loving her today
The pill and 16th avenue
The rhyming, oh she's a diamond the brown eyed mickey
She was Roy acuffs castle and elvis parsley's broken dream
It's not all bad it's not all dark it's not all gloom and crass
But to mine gold in this silver mine it does take balls of brass
For she's seem 'em come and seen 'em go
And came herself a time or two
No matter how satisfied her scream sounds, she always wants someone new
The next him or her or them or all, to be a star in this lady's town
You can fuck off or you can fight
You see, it all comes down to money
Not romantic art of days gone past, if you forget that rule
You can bet your backside she will bury it in your ass
A tramp, a slut, a bitch, a mutt, a thousand pawn shop guitars
A nasty little needle to a vein that feeds a singers heart
She lurks in friendly shadows; but she's a junky with a limb
The agents are her bookie and the labels are her pen
I'll tell you a well-known secret of a place known far and wide
The devil walks among us folks and Nashville is his bride
All the chaos he has caused, and done
His greatest tribute to every guitar-totin' dreamer
The devil don't exist but me, I shook his hand
And I know that he is real
So devil, you can go screw yourself, and then go straight the hell
Devil, devil, I feel you preying on my mind
I got nine things going wrong right now
And her leaving makes a dime
I'm mad as hell, and drunk, and well
Tonight, I guess we'll see
If devil, devil, you're bad enough to lock horns with me
Level, level, in search of solid ground
This swinging, swaying, side to side, is tossing me around
I got a hanker for an anchor to steady up my bow
Level, level, tie this rebel down
Crazy, crazy, calling out my name
I got one foot on the platform and the other's on a train
Save me, save me, I know what's in store
Crazy, crazy hell, I've been there before
Danger, danger, the way you're looking there at me
Be careful what you wish for, you might get what you don't need
I'm a brush fire on a drought land in a Santa Ana breeze
Danger, danger, don't you play around with me
Crazy, crazy, calling out my name
I got one foot on the platform and the other's on a train
Save me, save me, I know what's in store
Crazy, crazy hell, I've been there before
Angel, angel, heavenly body in holy jeans
On second thought, get over here and wrap me in your wings
Throw caution to the wind and honey, give me what I need
Angel, angel, love this devil, devil, out of me
Devil, devil, devil
Uh-uh-uh-uh, devil, devil
Uh-uh-uh-uh
Uh-uh-uh-uh, devil, devil
Uh-uh-uh-uh
Writer(s): Casey Beathard, Monty Criswell, Eric Church
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