"Music City Makes A Killin" lyrics

Words live up to the feathers they're of
A rooster's job is making man something outta nothing
And we all race the Sun, trying to keep up with the Moon
Staying dry from all the storms, so we soak up skies of blue
For what it's worth, just remember: I run with no pretenders
So if you do not love me tender, probably 'cause the vengeance cut the rope
But the ones trying to hang the wrong picture
Leave a lot of silence for them downtown singers

Many lyrics unfinished, many flowers not given
Opposition and the ref says [?] collision
Without a dollar to my name, the soul remains the same
[?] 'cause the singing that I sang, sang, sang

Music City made a killing, the kind I won't remember
Six string, six rounds, got your six until they get ya
Give a dozen rebel roses to the ones who won't surrender
If you're playing and they love it but won't sell it
Music City makes a killing
That's a record you ain't hearing (That's a record you ain't hearing)
Music City makes a killing
And that's a record you ain't hearing
Music City makes a killing

I don't pull strings, I just pick 'em, turn my love to hateful mentions
Then the meaning of a critic, then your hindering opinion
Well, some folks gotta hear it to liberate their spirit
Soul-searching non-existent, never left to call it missing
My hits are when I feel 'em, and they hit you in your feelings
The highwaymen we cherish lived in lonesome dark conditions
The rebels never rebelled, they were slaves [?]
Be the storm that made the town burn the bridges

Murder on Music Row perpetrating the authentic
And that's why I'm singing Music City made a killing
I'm the proven witness, if you got too many heads
Then they put you on a hit list

Music City made a killing, the kind I won't remember
Six string, six rounds, got your six until they get ya
Give a dozen rebel roses to the ones who won't surrender
If you're playing and they love it but won't sell it
Music City makes a killing (Music City makes a killing)
That's a record you ain't hearing (That's a record you ain't hearing)
Music City makes a killing (Music City makes a killing)
That's a record you ain't hearing (That's a record you ain't)
Music City makes a killing

Every song y'all got is empty, everything is beer and whiskey
Spending time down there wasted, and you know it's too expensive
Put the truth inside a bottle so the label owners hear me
Want a song to be a problem, who'll give the last bottle to Whitley?
I think the nickname is "guilty", and mine should be "the man"
It's my judgment on your actions, all the actions on my head
And I said
Music City makes a killing
But the city's in my spirit, printed on my birth certificate
I'll be Lucius till Heaven descend me
I'll be the rhythm they all know they ain't getting

Music City, Music City
(Keith Whitley was found dead in his Goodlettsville home just after noon today. At this point, his death is a mystery.)