Pistol Trisha Yearwood

Well here's what happens when you fall for a pistol
No no I don't mean no gun
I'm talkin' 'bout a man with bells and whistles
The kind that keeps your heart on the run
I met that cat in a two-bit juke joint
Took my money in a game of pool
Next thing I knew I was sittin' 'hind the eight-ball
Playin' my heart
Breakin' all the rules
Throw your rope 'round a runaway freight train
You know it's gonna drag you down the track
You dust your britches off and tell yourself you're insane
But every time you love a man like that

You get lost
You get lonely
You get calls
From the police
Tell your mama
Don't know what happened
Well you wanted trouble
Now you got a fistful
That's what happens
When you fall for a pistol

Well you'd think by now I'd learned my lesson
But I keep makin' them same mistakes
Must be some clue I keep missin'
How many times can a good heart break
I keep fallin' for all them bad boys
Poor or rich as dirt
Lots of fun and I ain't jokin'
But every time I think I won't get hurt