Tattoos Blues - Corb Lund

I got the tattoos blues, the tattoos blues

I shoulda thought things through first

My tattoos are blue, I got the tattoos blues

But hey, I got no regrets

So you’re feeling creative and a bit illustrative

And wondering just what to do

Well, march yourself down to the parlour around

The next corner and get a tattoo

Your options are endless, just have the apprentice

Show his previous work

Get yourself an eyepopper, a real job stopper

Sit down in the chair, you poor jerk

For a scratcher with talent the rainbow’s your palette

Any colour or shade, any hue

And until you are dead your art will turn heads

And eventually also turn blue

I got the tattoos blues, the tattoos blues

I shoulda thought things through first

My tattoos are blue, I got the tattoos blues

But hey, I got no regrets

Get an armband that’s tribal, but remember it’s final

Or a yin or a yang on your wrist

Maybe a stamp on the small of your back

Or 'True Love' or 'Hard Luck' on your fists

Full sleeve or just ankled or fully star spangled

With the flag bursting out from your hide

Or in some kind of cursive that’s vaguely subversive

Get the date that your great uncle died

Get 'Sabbath' or 'Slayer' or the lines from a prayer

Or your telephone area code

Get a tear by your eye and make it look like you’re cryin'

About spider webs on your elbows

Get the names of old lovers entirely covered

With a badly drawn sketch of your kids

Or get a shamrock, Fitzkelly or your hood cross your belly

In gothic, illegible script

Get a character, Asian, mistakenly blazin'

A message that ain’t what you think

'Cause they swore it meant 'Knowledge' but really says 'Olives'

Forever in permanent ink

I got the tattoos blues, the tattoos blues

I shoulda thought things through first

My tattoos are blue, I got the tattoos blues

But hey, I got no regrets

Well, if you’re still thinkin' you really need inkin'

Just be sure what it is that they’re sellin'

'Cause with it you’re stuck and you’re plumb out of luck

If they don’t get it right with the spellin'

'Cause it’s R before E except after three

In the morning and you picked the wrong artist

If he’s open that late the chances are great

You were drunk and he wasn’t the smartest

But you’ve given your future to this ignorant butcher

So when he’s carved you up with the gun

Send a few words to heaven, take a deep breath

And then look in the mirror when he’s done

'Cause the needle it stings but I’ll tell you the thing

That over the years really hurts

Is when you go to view your brand new tattoo

And to your horror it reads 'No Regerts'