Lyrics for Sivert Høyem’s “Prisoner of the Road” added.
Contact e-mail: firstname.lastname@example.org.
Ah little V is whistling on a tune
She's coughing in the darkness of your room
She left your manhood leaning on a broom
Now you're over in the land blind
And you're all bruised and you're leaning on your fast blues
Ah little V has got a careless lover
But she does not care to know if you're thinking of her
She enters the new scene so thin and sober
Just when you care to put yourself to some use
She leaves you flicking on your fast blues
Ah little V is nowhere to be found
Ah you look for her, but she is not around
You listen with one ear to the ground
Even Pigeon Foot, the indian, is here
But he has no news
He only knows the chords for a fast blues
Ah little V is calling on the phone
But she does not want you now that you're alone
Ah talking in a dry and broken tone
It's a tiny, little insult to your drunken groan
And your slow shoes - it's an insult to your fast, fast blues!