Well the sun rose hot in the mountain air, and the ground was dry, and the
dawg was there, reflecting cold blue steel in his hollow stare, it was a
beautiful day, but he didn't care. He was guarding his space, staking his
claim, protecting what was his and living up to his name. He peered down
from his perch at the top of the hill, waiting for the moment he could
shoot to kill. He was standing alone, surveying the scene, he and the
planet vs. the human machine. He was the flaw in the gears, the crack in
the cogs, he was the fly in the ointment and they called him the Dawg...
Chorus: Well he's all alone, he ain't got no home, ain't got no place to
go. He don't feel no pain it's just the same if'n things are high or low.
He don't trust no one except his gun, and that ain't just for show. He
don't feel no fears don't cry no tears just get right up and go. He knows
his limitations, ain't no fat bump on a log, he holds dear to his
convictions he's the man they call the Dawg.
He heard the snap of a twig and a bark and a yell, his nose began to twitch
with that familiar smell. He deftly chambered a bullet and took a deep
breath, steadily awaiting his impending death. Peeling his eyes on the
valley below, he saw the shadow of movement, an approaching foe. He slowly
sank on his haunches and lowered his head knowing if he were found that he
would surely be dead. Somberly reflecting what had transpired, he saw a
sallow face, raised his rifle, and fired. He saw the broken form, tumble
and fall, he was true to his mark, he had sunk his first ball.
Chorus:
He heard the sounds of retreat and he bided his time, waiting for nightfall
to cover his crime. As the sun fell low he melted into the dusk, receding
in darkness like ashes in dust. He knew that he wouldn't have long to
prepare, he could feel a tense clarity biting the air, he must rest and
await a more vigorous pursuit from which he may not escape with his life or
his youth. He considered his options, his freedom and pride, potentially
marred by a tragic demise, he was the flaw in the gears, the crack in the
cogs, he was the bull in the china shop, and they called him the Dawg.
The Dawg Video (MV)
Jim - The Dawg Lyrics
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We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
Well the sun rose hot in the mountain air, and the ground was dry, and the
dawg was there, reflecting cold blue steel in his hollow stare, it was a
beautiful day, but he didn't care. He was guarding his space, staking his
claim, protecting what was his and living up to his name. He peered down
from his perch at the top of the hill, waiting for the moment he could
shoot to kill. He was standing alone, surveying the scene, he and the
planet vs. the human machine. He was the flaw in the gears, the crack in
the cogs, he was the fly in the ointment and they called him the Dawg...
Chorus: Well he's all alone, he ain't got no home, ain't got no place to
go. He don't feel no pain it's just the same if'n things are high or low.
He don't trust no one except his gun, and that ain't just for show. He
don't feel no fears don't cry no tears just get right up and go. He knows
his limitations, ain't no fat bump on a log, he holds dear to his
convictions he's the man they call the Dawg.
He heard the snap of a twig and a bark and a yell, his nose began to twitch
with that familiar smell. He deftly chambered a bullet and took a deep
breath, steadily awaiting his impending death. Peeling his eyes on the
valley below, he saw the shadow of movement, an approaching foe. He slowly
sank on his haunches and lowered his head knowing if he were found that he
would surely be dead. Somberly reflecting what had transpired, he saw a
sallow face, raised his rifle, and fired. He saw the broken form, tumble
and fall, he was true to his mark, he had sunk his first ball.
Chorus:
He heard the sounds of retreat and he bided his time, waiting for nightfall
to cover his crime. As the sun fell low he melted into the dusk, receding
in darkness like ashes in dust. He knew that he wouldn't have long to
prepare, he could feel a tense clarity biting the air, he must rest and
await a more vigorous pursuit from which he may not escape with his life or
his youth. He considered his options, his freedom and pride, potentially
marred by a tragic demise, he was the flaw in the gears, the crack in the
cogs, he was the bull in the china shop, and they called him the Dawg.
dawg was there, reflecting cold blue steel in his hollow stare, it was a
beautiful day, but he didn't care. He was guarding his space, staking his
claim, protecting what was his and living up to his name. He peered down
from his perch at the top of the hill, waiting for the moment he could
shoot to kill. He was standing alone, surveying the scene, he and the
planet vs. the human machine. He was the flaw in the gears, the crack in
the cogs, he was the fly in the ointment and they called him the Dawg...
Chorus: Well he's all alone, he ain't got no home, ain't got no place to
go. He don't feel no pain it's just the same if'n things are high or low.
He don't trust no one except his gun, and that ain't just for show. He
don't feel no fears don't cry no tears just get right up and go. He knows
his limitations, ain't no fat bump on a log, he holds dear to his
convictions he's the man they call the Dawg.
He heard the snap of a twig and a bark and a yell, his nose began to twitch
with that familiar smell. He deftly chambered a bullet and took a deep
breath, steadily awaiting his impending death. Peeling his eyes on the
valley below, he saw the shadow of movement, an approaching foe. He slowly
sank on his haunches and lowered his head knowing if he were found that he
would surely be dead. Somberly reflecting what had transpired, he saw a
sallow face, raised his rifle, and fired. He saw the broken form, tumble
and fall, he was true to his mark, he had sunk his first ball.
Chorus:
He heard the sounds of retreat and he bided his time, waiting for nightfall
to cover his crime. As the sun fell low he melted into the dusk, receding
in darkness like ashes in dust. He knew that he wouldn't have long to
prepare, he could feel a tense clarity biting the air, he must rest and
await a more vigorous pursuit from which he may not escape with his life or
his youth. He considered his options, his freedom and pride, potentially
marred by a tragic demise, he was the flaw in the gears, the crack in the
cogs, he was the bull in the china shop, and they called him the Dawg.