Dog Won’t Hunt

**[Intro – low, muttered, almost to himself]**  
Sun’s up…  
Truth hurts…  
Hell, let’s get it.

**(Verse 1)**  
Oil field dawn ‘til blackout night,  
Salt burnin’ my skin, dust blindin’ my eyes.  
You talk sweet, swear you’re clean this time,  
Same damn lies wrapped in tighter jeans.  
Couple “sorrys,” that cheap perfume you wear,  
Think I’m drunk enough to believe you still care…  
*(soft growl)* Nah, darlin’… not tonight.

**(Pre-Chorus – roughneck grit, voice cracking just a hair)**  
Hands still shakin’ from iron and steel,  
Back broke honest, this pain’s too real.  
I don’t bend, I don’t bluff no more,  
If it ain’t straight… it ain’t enough anymore.

**(Chorus)**  
Honey, that dog won’t hunt,  
No… that damn dog won’t hunt.  
Your trail’s dead, your scent’s gone cold,  
Lazy hound just doin’ what he’s told.  
Heard every word in rooms like this—  
That dog won’t hunt… not one damn bit.  
*(half-sung, pained)* Yeah… he won’t.

**(Verse 2)**  
Blackboard floor, neon buzzin’ low,  
Jukebox spinnin’ lies and plastic love I know.  
Friday hits, you vanish like smoke,  
City lights screamin’ louder than I ever spoke.  
I don’t chase shadows, I don’t beg on my knees,  
Just shut the damn door… pour one for me.  
*(quiet, bitter chuckle)* One more… always one more.

**(Pre-Chorus – building, voice thicker with hurt)**  
Knuckles split wide, boots caked in the grime,  
Earned every scar I drown here every time.  
No more slack, no more blind trust—  
I work hard… and now I cut loose.

**(Bridge – slower, stripped back, almost whispering then swelling)**  
Steel cries hard when the rigs shut down,  
Fiddle cuts deep, barroom wisdom found.  
Bottle whispered what you never would say—  
Your kind of love… it never stays.  
*(long pause, raw exhale)* It never… stays.

**(Final Chorus – full band kicks, voice breaking with resolve)**  
Yeah honey, that dog won’t hunt,  
Gun’s unloaded, season’s finally done.  
Telecaster ringin’ through these calloused hands,  
Cold black road… and a harder man.  
That dog won’t hunt…  
*(ad-lib, gravelly shout into the mic)* Ever again, darlin’… never again!

**(Outro – half-laugh, fading gravel voice, stool creaking)**  
Nah…  
That dog won’t hunt.  
*(soft, to the bartender)* One more, brother… make it burn.

country, southern rock, heartbreak ballad, roughneck/outlaw country, Americana, barroom blues, Texas/red dirt country, g