Floorboard Blues Lyrics - Pale Sun, Crescent Moon - Cowboy Junkies

Look under his floorboards, Mama, 

I don't trust his silly grin 

He's got a beat-up Rambler, Nebraska plates, 

and I ain't getting in 

I don't like the way his pinky ring 

picks up the dashboard light 

or his short little piggy fingers 

or the way his belt is cinched too tight 

Check under his floorboards, Mama, 

I don't like his suggestive tone 

The way his words drip from his mouth 

as he asks can I take you home? 

I don't care how many miles I got, 

I think I'd rather walk them alone 

than to sit in the back seat 

as his eyes in the mirror 

reduce me to flesh and bone 

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Check under his floorboards, Mama, 

'cause that razor's not just a threat to me 

He'll be slicing tiny crescents from your heart, 

without laying a sweaty palm to your cheek 

Don't accuse me of running scared, 

listen to what I'm saying 

It's a fucked up ol' world, but this ol' girl 

Well, she ain't giving in 

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