87 Southbound-Hancock (Hank III)
                            A Bb B
Well, I caught you with him            on those damn satin sheets,

So I packed my things and then I hit the streets.

E                       B                                           E
87 southbound to San Antone, it’s getting late out, I ain’t got no home.
E                                        A
The pavements burning down at 92  
                E               B                         E 
I don’t need to hear no more excuses and I don’t love you.

E                               B                       E
Lord, the sun keeps beating me down and it’s hotter than hell.
            B                                   E
And if I’m lucky I’ll catch a ride but you can never tell.
A                                           E   
I’d rather be here with the bugs and flies than back there hearing your alibis
B                                                                             
 E
Heard all that I’m gonna hear you say, I’m gonna take my pride and go the 
other way.

E                         B                                             E
87 southbound to San Antone, it’s getting late out, I’m 40 miles from home,
E                                               A
The rain keeps falling like the tears in my eyes, 
E                                   B                  E
I’m just trying to wash away the hurt from all your lies.

E                   B                   E
Lightening streaks across the evening sky 
           B                                           E    
and if I’m lucky I’ll make it big or lay right down and die.
A                                   E                               
I know when the morning comes I’m gonna be a walking son of a gun.
B                                                                       E
And afternoon comes rolling around, I’ll have ten more miles and one more 
town.

E                         B                                          E
87 southbound to San Antone, it’s getting late out, I ain’t got no home,
E                              A    
The pavements burning at 102.  
                  E             B                           E
I don’t need to hear no more excuses and I don’t love you.
                    E                 B                         E   
I don’t need to hear no more excuses and I don’t love you.