
Don’t Make a Movie About Me Johnny Cash
На этой странице вы найдете полный текст песни "Don’t Make a Movie About Me" от Johnny Cash. Lyrxo предлагает вам самый полный и точный текст этой композиции без лишних отвлекающих факторов. Узнайте все куплеты и припев, чтобы лучше понять любимую песню и насладиться ею в полной мере. Идеально для фанатов и всех, кто ценит качественную музыку.

If anybody made a movie out of my life
I wouldn't like it, but I'd watch it twice
If they halfway tried to do it right
There'd be forty screen writers workin' day and nite
They'd need a research team from Uncle Sam
And go from David Allen Coe to Billy Graham
It would run ten days in the final cut
And that would mean leaving out the gossip smut
And I do request for my children's sake
Don't ever let 'em do a new re-make
The thing I'm sayin' is, don't you see
Don't make a movie 'bout me
Even for T.V
Don't make a movie 'bout me
Don't let 'em drag old Hickory Lake
For my telephones and bottles and roller skates
Down forty feet in the Cumberland mud
There's a rusty old gun that once shed blood
Out a hundred yards from my lakeside house
Weighted down with a rock is a skirt and blouse
A dozen pair of boots that made a dozen corns
Trombones, trumpets, harmonicas and horns
And the tapes that I threw from the lakeside door
Silverstein, and Kristofferson from years before
Everything has a story that should be let be
So don’t make a movie ‘bout me
I wouldn't like it, but I'd watch it twice
If they halfway tried to do it right
There'd be forty screen writers workin' day and nite
They'd need a research team from Uncle Sam
And go from David Allen Coe to Billy Graham
It would run ten days in the final cut
And that would mean leaving out the gossip smut
And I do request for my children's sake
Don't ever let 'em do a new re-make
The thing I'm sayin' is, don't you see
Don't make a movie 'bout me
Even for T.V
Don't make a movie 'bout me
Don't let 'em drag old Hickory Lake
For my telephones and bottles and roller skates
Down forty feet in the Cumberland mud
There's a rusty old gun that once shed blood
Out a hundred yards from my lakeside house
Weighted down with a rock is a skirt and blouse
A dozen pair of boots that made a dozen corns
Trombones, trumpets, harmonicas and horns
And the tapes that I threw from the lakeside door
Silverstein, and Kristofferson from years before
Everything has a story that should be let be
So don’t make a movie ‘bout me
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