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Scott Simpson
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Look Doris
Look, Doris
Look, Doris there's a train a-coming
And it's headed straight for your head
Listen, Doris to the whistle blowing
And the lights are flashing red
They're flashing red
Not every crossing has a warning sign
Not every sign has a right to be red
It don't take no fortune teller
Just to know you've got to lie where you've made your bed
You've got to lie where you've made your bed, Doris
You've got to lie where you've made your bed
Listen Doris there's a car a-coming
Gonna hit you from behind
Listen, Doris to his wheels a-grinding
As he swerves past the yellow line
Past the yellow line
Not every road leads to Heaven Doris
And some drivers are blind
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Not every road has a shoulder, Doris
And the fields that you pass may be filled with mines
All those fields are filled with mines, Doris
Oh the fields are filled with mines
Everybody's got a destination
Everybody's got somewhere to go
The going's easy
But the coming home is slow…
It's so slow, Doris
Oh comin' home is slow…
Look, Doris there's a train a-coming
And it's headed straight for your head
Listen, Doris to the whistle blowing
And the lights are flashing red
They're flashing red
The lights are flashing red
The lights are flashing red, Doris
Flashing red.
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