Diesel, Guns and Rust - Alex Flanigan, Lyrics
28 Mar 2024
Another song missing lyrics on the lyric sites. Released 2012, performed by Alex Flanigan, written by Thom Sebastian.
Diesel, Guns and Rust
Way out past where the street light’s hitting
Where the gravel turns to dust
Three men looking to cross that border
Diesel, Guns, and Rust
Twenty years hauling rebar on a flatbed
from Maine to the border towns
Amphetamines, bad papers, and a repo
Tracked old Diesel down
It took a dozen flashing blue and reds
With their pistols drawn and cocked
Judge said 3 to 5 at Holman
Boy, you never should have stopped
Three men shackled, three men chained
When they climbed aboard that bus
Headed out to general population
Diesel, Guns, and Rust
Guns took the golden gloves home in Mississippi
Back in 1983
Till a barroom blind hook lit him like a freight train
And dropped him to his knees
Pascagoula boy drinking in Mobile
Should have never hit the white guy back
Cuz it’s 3 to 5 at Holman
On account of Guns was black
Three men talking low in the yard
Not looking to cause no fuss
Scheming ‘bout how to make a run for freedom
Diesel, Guns and Rust
Diesel, Guns, and Rust
By a simple twist of fate
Became a band of brothers
When they slammed those prison gates
In here, it just don’t matter
It’s all in who you trust
Just 3 brothers from different mothers
Named Diesel, Guns, and Rust
Rust pulled a 4.0 to about midway through his senior year
Till a cocaine frame-up left him in handcuffs
The price of a girl and a beer
The judge said “What the hell were you thinking?
An ounce will get you 3 to 5
And it’s a long road down to Holman, son,
from the land of the crimson tide”
Three men ready to make that break
With the only friends they could trust
Crawling out ‘neath the cover of darkness
Diesel, Guns, and Rust
Diesel, Guns, and Rust
By a simple twist of fate
Became a band of brothers
when they slammed those prison gates
In here, it just don’t matter
It’s all in who you trust
Just 3 brothers from different mothers
Named Diesel, Guns, and Rust
They crawled through mud and razor wire
Stole the warden’s Chevy S-10
Hit 29 south down to Pensacola
Where they dove into some van
85 miles from home and
where the gravel turns to dust
3 friends looking to cross that border
Diesel, Guns, and Rust
Hey, hey, hey, hey