[LYRICAL DIRECTION — 1970s TRADITIONAL OUTLAW COUNTRY | 88 BPM] Authentic 1970s outlaw country. Raw, dirty Texas honky-tonk with a wicked Southern sense of humor. Deep, smoky female alto, low chest resonance, weathered rasp, thick natural Southern drawl. Cocky, sarcastic, slightly slurred conversational delivery. One female vocalist throughout. Spoken lines are dry and cutting. Big, memorable melodic choruses with unapologetic attitude. Vintage Telecaster chicken-pickin', gritty acoustic guitar, crying pedal steel, aggressive country fiddle, walking electric bass, loose live drums and upright honky-tonk piano. Lazy swinging two-step rhythm, warm analog tape sound, imperfect live-band timing. Featured instrumental breaks with dueling fiddle and Telecaster. No male vocals, harmonies, doubling, pop-country, electronic drums or modern production. Keep everything rough, traditional and rebellious. [INTRO — FEMALE SPOKEN | DRY, DEADPAN | SOLO GUITAR] Preacher said I was a sweet woman. That was the first lie. [pause] [VERSE 1 — FEMALE SUNG | LOW, CONVERSATIONAL, SARCASTIC] They put my picture by the chapel door, Told everybody I weren't here no more. Had six white roses and a borrowed dress, A bunch of lying bastards looking Sunday best. My cousin took my jewelry, My sister took my shoes. My ex showed up in a brand-new suit, Like he had something left to lose. [CHORUS — FEMALE SUNG | BIG OUTLAW MELODY, COCKY] Well, I look good for a dead woman, Ain't a damn thing wrong with me. Got my lipstick on and my boots pulled tight, And a whole lotta hell to raise tonight. They can cry, they can pray, They can put my name in stone, But I look good for a dead woman, And this dead woman's coming home. [pause] [VERSE 2 — FEMALE SUNG | SLY STORYTELLING] They found my Buick down by Miller's Creek, Said I'd been missing for a solid week. That preacher had a will I'd never signed, And half my property already on his mind. He told the town I'd gone to glory, Lord, he laid it on real thick. But I was sitting in the county office, Learning every dirty trick. [INSTRUMENTAL — 8 BARS | TELECASTER AND FIDDLE] [Dirty Telecaster takes four bars, fiddle answers with four. Walking bass and loose drums maintain the swinging honky-tonk rhythm. No vocals.] [VERSE 3 — FEMALE SUNG | DARK HUMOR, BUILDING ATTITUDE] I walked right through those chapel doors, My heels went knocking on that hardwood floor. My sister dropped her pocketbook, That preacher gave me one long look. I held that casket receipt up high, Said, "Somebody better explain this lie." My ex turned white, the choir went still, I said, "Who's the bastard that forged my will?" [CHORUS — FEMALE SUNG | FULL BAND, STRONGER] Well, I look good for a dead woman, Ain't a damn thing wrong with me. Got my lipstick on and my boots pulled tight, And a whole lotta hell to raise tonight. They can cry, they can pray, They can put my name in stone, But I look good for a dead woman, And this dead woman's coming home. [pause] [BRIDGE — FEMALE SPOKEN | STRIP TO BASS AND GUITAR] Preacher... [pause] You look like you've seen a ghost. [pause] Funny thing about burying somebody... You oughta make damn sure they're dead. [INSTRUMENTAL — 8 BARS | WILD VINTAGE OUTLAW BREAK] [Snarling Telecaster, aggressive fiddle and rolling honky-tonk piano trade phrases. Dirty live-band energy. No singing.] [FINAL CHORUS — FEMALE SUNG | FULL-BAND OUTLAW SWAGGER] Yeah, I look good for a dead woman, And I ain't even dressed in black. Got my land, my car, my money, And my damn good name back. You can keep your funeral flowers, You can keep that coffin too. I look good for a dead woman, And I look better than you! [OUTRO — FEMALE SPOKEN | DRY, AMUSED] Oh, and preacher? Keep the flowers. [pause] But you might wanna change the name on that coffin. [FINAL INSTRUMENTAL — TELECASTER TWANG, FIDDLE FLOURISH, HARD BAND STOP]
