More songs by Luke Combs
Description
Lyricist, Lead Vocalist, Associated Performer, Composer, Producer: Luke Combs
Percussion, Drums: Jerry Roe
Bass: Matt Maxwell
Electric Guitar: Rob McNelley
Pedal Steel Guitar: Bobby Terry
Acoustic Guitar: Todd Lombardo
Piano, Organ: Gordon Mote
Producer, Background Vocal: Jonathan Singleton
Digital Editor, Additional Engineer, Background Vocal, Percussion, Mixing Engineer, Producer: Chip Matthews
Lyricist, Composer: Dan Isbell
Lyricist, Composer: Drew Parker
Recording Engineer, Digital Editor: Steve Blackmon
Assistant Recording Engineer: Chris VanOverberghe
Digital Editor: Michael Proctor
Mastering Engineer: Benny Quinn
Production Manager: Scott Johnson
Production Manager: Rose Hutcheson
A& R Director: Taylor Lindsey
A& R Director: John Johnson
Lyrics and translation
Original
Jack Daniel's, black label
Empty dining room table
Here we go again
Another last resort, so help me, Jesus
The silence, so quiet
It's filling my mind
With everything we were that wasn't
Once again, I fall to pieces
I gave up on a shooting star
It'd have to fall down way too far
To fix this kinda feeling that I'm feeling
I tried the back pew of that church
Read every chapter, every verse
But all my prayers, they always hit the ceiling
So I do the only thing that don't make me feel empty
Pull that bottle out and wish upon a whiskey
No chance at redemption
When there's no one listening
Trying to keep my head above the water
I'm my own worst enemy
'Cause I just keep drowning in this Tennessee
I gave up on a shooting star
It'd have to fall down way too far
To fix this kinda feeling that I'm feeling
I tried the back pew of that church
Read every chapter, every verse
But all my prayers, they always hit the ceiling
So I do the only thing that don't make me feel empty
Pull that bottle out and wish upon a whiskey
Here comes the burn
I love to hate
It's all I got
Ever since
I gave up on a shooting star
It'd have to fall down way too far
To fix this kinda feeling that I'm feeling
I tried the back pew of that church
Read every chapter, every verse
But all my prayers, they always hit the ceiling
So I do the only thing that don't make me feel empty
Pull that bottle out and wish upon a whiskey