Six-O-Five A.M. on Sunday mornin'
I was supposed to left for Memphis late, last night
I stopped at one of them old highway places
And because of it, I sleep in Tyre County Jail tonight
I started out the night with good intentions
But I ended up gettin' sideways drinkin' wine
Well, last thing I remember we was roarin'
Then somethin' hit my head and knocked me from my conscious mind
I'm a victim of life's circumstances
I was raised around barrooms, Friday night dances
Singin' them old country songs
Half the time endin' up someplace I don't belong
Alright
I said, jailer, hey, what y'all got me charged with?
He looked at me and he half-way closed one eye
He said, ‽You mean to say you don't remember
Cuttin' up some honky with that bone-handled knife?”
I'm a victim of life's circumstances
I was raised around barrooms, Friday night dances
Singin' them old country songs
Half the time endin' up someplace I don't belong
Yeah, half the time endin' up someplace I don't belong

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