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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Eric Church
Eric Church
Vocals
Jay Joyce
Jay Joyce
Electric Guitar
Lee Hendricks
Lee Hendricks
Bass
Craig Wright
Craig Wright
Drums
Jeff Hyde
Jeff Hyde
Acoustic Guitar
Bryan Sutton
Bryan Sutton
Mandolin
Joanna Cotten
Joanna Cotten
Background Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Eric Church
Eric Church
Songwriter
Casey Beathard
Casey Beathard
Songwriter
Monty Criswell
Monty Criswell
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Jay Joyce
Jay Joyce
Producer
Arturo Buenahora, Jr.
Arturo Buenahora, Jr.
Executive Producer
Jason Hall
Jason Hall
Engineer
Matt Wheeler
Matt Wheeler
Assistant Recording Engineer
Andrew Mendelson
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 Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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