I'm sittin' on an old tin roof
Truth be told I ain't thinkin' bout you
I'm thinkin' bout what I'm gon' do
I got a feelin' that we may be through
I know
There's a little buzzin' in my head
Reminiscin' bout the things that you said
How you promised that you'd rather be dead
Than to leave me here to share our bed
I know
I can hear the sound of muddy water
I raised your son, your daughter
And I worked my fingers to the bone
I know
Honey child, you must have lost your mind
Did you think that I would turn a blind eye
Mama told me not to trust your kind
What is hidden I will surely find
I know, oh, I know
I can smell the stench of cheap perfume
You brought her to our room
She worked her fingers to the bone
I know
Darlin, I'll tiptoe while you are sleepin
I'll drag you to the creek and
Put on my rubber waders
I'll feed you to the gators
They'll work your fingers to the bone
I know
I'm sittin' on an old tin roof
Truth be told I ain't thinkin' bout you
I'm thinkin' bout what I'm gon' do
I got a feelin' that we may be through