“Boots, Bourbon & Bad Decisions”

Lyrics Verse 1 Well I rolled into the bar wearin’ jeans too tight, Lookin’ like a man who’s already lost the fight. Bartender said, “Boy, you sure you wanna stay?” I said, “Pour me two drinks, I’ll behave… …in my own special way.” Saw a cowgirl winkin’ with a mischievous grin, And Lord, I knew right then I was about to sin again. Chorus ’Cause it’s boots, bourbon, & bad decisions, I ain’t got morals, just blurry visions. If trouble’s a woman, well she’s sittin’ on my knee— Laughin’ at the dumb things she’s temptin’ me to be. Yeah, the night gets rowdy when the neon’s glowin’, And my common sense packs up and starts goin’. Boots, bourbon & bad decisions— That’s damn near my religion. Verse 2 She said, “Honey, you dance like a wounded goose,” I said, “Girl, that’s fair, but this belt ain’t loose.” She dragged me to the floor like she owned my soul, Spun me ’round so hard I lost control. Dropped my hat, my pride, and my last clean thought, And she whispered somethin’ spicy That my mama sure would not. Chorus Yeah, it’s boots, bourbon, & bad decisions, I’m makin’ promises with zero conditions. If the jukebox moans, you know I’m joinin’ in— With a grin that says, “I’ll regret this again.” When her hand finds mine, boy, you know it’s trouble, Should’ve walked away—now I’m in it double. Boots, bourbon & bad decisions— That’s damn near my religion. Bridge Next thing I know we’re dancin’ on the bar, Yellin’, “Who needs brakes? We’re already too far!” Sheriff walks in, says, “Son, what’d you do?” I say, “Ask the lady—I just followed her cue.” She blows him a kiss, and he turns real red, Says, “I’m blamin’ you, boy,” And I said, “Yeah… that’s fair.” Final Chorus Boots, bourbon, & bad decisions, Honky-tonk sins with perfect precision. She stole my hat, my wallet, and maybe my luck— But she left me smilin’ like a lovesick buck. If livin’ wild’s wrong, then Lord forgive me, ’Cause Saturday nights are where my saints ain’t with me. Boots, bourbon & bad decisions— Ain’t life sweeter with a little mischief in it? Outro If you catch me Sunday prayin’ on my knees, Just know I ain’t holy— I’m just tryin’ to find my keys.