Southern Comforts Songtext
von Baggio

Faded Samuel Adams hat twisted front to back
Dying of heartbreak sitting in the back of a baby blue Cadillac
I have nothing in common with the body that I own
Maybe I′ve just grown bored of the way in which it's grown

Baby place your trust in my West Country gut
Baby place your hands where your footsteps meet the sand


Something about your stare suggests you′re not really there
Sitting so strange, leaning forward on the train

Another man, another face
His ten gallon hands wrapped around your waist
What a fist-clenching waste of a feeling
Familiar, but I can't quite place

Baby place your trust in my West Country gut
Baby place your hands where your footsteps meet the sand