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If Waylon Were Here He'd Be Pissed 2 by Richard

SongGPT
If Waylon Were Here He'd Be Pissed 2 by Richard - Country music cover art

If Waylon Were Here He'd Be Pissed 2

Country

0:002:54
Lyrics
Description
[Verse 1]
Dusty boots on neon bars where the jukebox never cries,
Cowboys read their lines off screens, no story in their eyes.
Steel guitars turn plastic, sweetened syrup in their veins,
A thousand miles from Tulsa, but it all just sounds the same.
[Pre-Chorus]
Waylon’s ghost in a smoky room,
Shaking his head, muttering the truth.
There’s no outlaw left on this neon street,
Just Hollywood pretending, playing for a seat.
[Chorus]
If Waylon were here, he’d be pissed—
Not a freight train sound, just a pop star twist.
Where’s the fire in the fight, the grit in the song?
He’d spit on these stages, say it’s all wrong.
If Waylon were here, yeah, he’d be pissed.
[Verse 2]
Back when whiskey burned and stories bled through every note,
Truth was the needle’s drop, not some rehearsed quote.
Now it’s flash and glitter, lips synced to a track,
Real gets shoved aside, ain’t no looking back.
[Pre-Chorus]
The highway calls with a hollow ring,
Empty lines where the poets sang.
Studio shadows hiding the pain,
Waylon’s warning, burn the fake and reign.
[Chorus]
If Waylon were here, he’d be pissed—
Not a freight train sound, just a pop star twist.
Where’s the fire in the fight, the grit in the song?
He’d spit on these stages, say it’s all wrong.
If Waylon were here, yeah, he’d be pissed.
[Bridge]
Fiddles lost to synths, hats swapped for plastic rims,
The rebel in him twitches, can’t stand the gin and gimps.
He’d pick up his guitar, kick down their velvet doors,
Sing the dirt road anthem, like he did before.
[Chorus]
If Waylon were here, he’d be pissed—
Not a freight train sound, just a pop star twist.
Where’s the fire in the fight, the grit in the song?
He’d spit on these stages, say it’s all wrong.
If Waylon were here, yeah, he’d be pissed.
[Outro]
So pour one out for the loud and the lost,
For the nights we paid the real cost.
If Waylon were here, you’d hear his roar,
Like thunder rolling down that old dirt floor.
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