So kill me like you used to, love me like you never did Fuck me like I'm I'm never coming back home On the way down to your house And maybe I could die treading water Drowning under moonlight sonata Fuck me like we never gon' see each other again Fuck me

Sweet home Alabama Where the skies are so blue Lord, I'm coming home to you Big wheels keep on turning Carry me home to see my kin Singing songs about the south-land I miss 'ole' 'bamy once again And I think it's a sin Well I heard Mister Young sing

Home at last Oh Angela it's a long time coming They raise you up just to cut you down When you left this town, with your windows down And the wilderness inside Let the exits pass, all the tar and glass 'Til the road and sky align The strangers in this

I'll be coming home I'm I'm coming home I won't sin Tend your light 'Cause on this night I've been away Searching for a reason Another purpose to find

When you answer the door, pick up the phone You won't find me 'cause I'm I'm not coming home To find yourself alone And does it make you sad And does it make you mad To find that I have grown To see the strength that I have shown I'll bet it hurts so bad

Can you hear the bell? How could I turn around? Face the sound of the bell that shines? Ring it out, trim it out To drag me back down But I'm I'm not coming home Till I stop pretending I tried hard to be brave I tried hard not to be afraid

I know you don't care too much But I still care (La la la la la la la la la la la la) I still care (La la la la la la la la la la la la) Well, I care But you don't care I told you how you hurt me, baby Now I'm I'm crying and deserted, baby Ain't nobody tell

Sweet home Alabama Where the skies are so blue Lord, I'm coming home to you Alabama, ah ah ah Big wheels keep on turning Carry me home to see my kin Singing songs about the Southland

Don't cry, little Robin-Marie Goodbye, little Robin-Marie Don't try following me 'Cause you know I'm I'm coming home soon My ships' leaving on a three-year tour The next tide will take us from shore Windlaced, gather in sail and spray On a search for the

Sorry, I ain't sorry I ain't thinking 'bout you I ain't sorry, nigga, nah I ain't sorry Middle fingers up, put them hands high Wave it in his face, tell him, boy, bye No no, hell nah He trying to roll me up, I ain't picking up Headed to the club, I ain't