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Machine-Gun Mandolin | Dark Country & Blues Music - Dark Country Boy
Mandolin strings spit fast
They're chopping like a rotor
Holler from the hollow but my soul colder than the motor
Banjo plucking rounds
They ricochet through the valley
Hilltop sniper vibes
Appalachian finale
Machine gun mandolin, battlefield twang
Holler in the hills where the war cry sang
Grime in the gears, all slick on my skin
The war machine dances to the bluegrass din
Double kick drums pound sound clashing in the wood
Old time fiddle screaming where the cannon once stood
Muzzle flash melodies, chords carved from the stone
Echoes of the mountains, they call me their own
Picking strings sharper than a bayonet's edge
Pine smoking powder drifting off the ledge
Grime bars, grimy mud, caked in raw
Hillbilly steez meets mechanical law
Machine gun mandolin, battlefield twang
Holler in the hills where the war cry sang
Grime in the gears, all slick on my skin
The war machine dances to the bluegrass din
Hands blistered raw, picking faster than the gat
Bunker in the barn, turn the haystack to a trap
Iron horse rhythm stomping out the devil's march
Blood and rust tangle 'neath the moon's wide arch