Fair To Midland

I'm coming right back home
You would have done the same
Never washed your hands
If you knew they'd dig up dirt again

Took a drown
To wash her hands

So i'll scold the son
That slapped the rain
Until we all knew she'd go down in twain

Uh oh uh oh uh uh uh oh
The fruits of our labors to lay out to rot
(against the side to decide who the master race)?
I told ya so
I told ya so
I told ya so

Uh-oh!

I gotta to ride in style
During my second wind
I stirred up all the dust
With an iron fist, and a hair brush

The prettiest picture you ever saw
The prettiest picture not on the wall

Heard her fights
Covered my eyes

Uh oh uh oh uh uh uh oh
The fruits of our labors to lay out to rot
(against the side to decide who the master race)?
I told ya so
I told ya so
I told ya so

I coming right back home
You would have done the same
Don't you wash your hands
We both know they'll dig up dirt again

I gotta ride in style
Until my second wind
Have a fit
Like the bitter son of abraham

Hold your breath
Did you see the light?
Did you go so far


Uh oh uh oh uh uh uh oh
The fruits of our labors to lay out to rot
(against the side to decide who the master race)?
I told ya so
I told ya so
I told ya so