Dustin Welch, Super Rooster Music (SESAC); Sean Locke, Morraine Music (BMI)
I’ve got a dirty mind, I like a certain kind of thing
I can’t help myself
Can’t tell you what it’s s’posed to mean
I can’t tell you what it’s s’posed to mean
Sometimes late at night
As I’m walking up and down these halls
I swear to God I hear voices from behind walls
Voices from behind the walls
I’ve never been the kind
To worry bout it all that much
Lately I’ve been wondering if maybe I’m just losing touch
Maybe I’m just losing touch
Until I get that cold chill
Running up and down my spine
I’m loaded like a pistol, I’m ready anytime
I’m ready for you anytime
So, I pour myself another drink
As if it’s gonna help at all
I know what happens next, there ain’t nothing left ‘cept protocol
Ain’t nothing left ‘cept protocol
Yeah, I’ve got a dirty mind
I like a certain kind of thing
I can’t help myself, can’t tell you what it’s s’posed to mean
I can’t tell you what it’s s’posed to mean
Can’t tell you what it’s s’posed to mean
Dustin Welch: acoustic guitar, vocals; Savannah Welch: vocals; Drew Smith: acoustic guitar, vocals; Kyle Ellison: electric guitar; Trisha Keefer: violin; Joe Beckham: electric bass; Joe Humel: drums
This song was written during a time when I was reading way too much Bukowski and decided that I was tired of writing songs that changed chords. My good friend Sean Locke, one of the best country singers in Nashville, would come over to the Chicken Shack after I’d get off work cooking and washing dishes at the Bluebird Cafe, and we’d sit up all night getting drunk and singing songs under the pretense that we were supposed to be writing. Over the course of the night, I’d eventually throw this song at him and maybe we’d write a verse, maybe we wouldn’t. After about two months though, we had us one of the weirdest songs I’d ever written and one Sean would certainly never sing in public.