place for me." a man of nowhere, a man of black heart from the dead end streets. "regret runs through me. i am no one, i am nothing, i am a man of defeat
That whiskey burns going down Old man pour me another round Cause it's my last night in town And I ain't thinking of slowing down. No, I am fixing to
Hello my dear. It?s so nice to see you here. How long has it been? Oh it feels like years, but I?m sure it?s just been days. I?ve been walking around
Let's talk about the old days, let's talk about your friends, let's talk about the summer and how you wish it wouldn't end. Did I forget to tell you,
I stand next to an empty grave Where my friends will lay I'll put their bodies down Into their resting place. Got a purple heart For a wound and scar
My savior, this city, My comfort, her pity Or so I hoped. My heartache, my hard luck, My war time, my struggle That no one knows. In the allys where
I ain't been sleeping well these days I lie awake listening to the trains Wishing for one of them To come take me away Lost my way every place I've been
I'm wandering these streets alone They don't feel like home This once hallowed ground Feels like a ghost town now I'm on the street corners everyday At
Roll on through to the other side of town. passed the quarry, the river beds, over bridges and bunker sheds. roll on through to the pits and the rail
Hard rain fell. chalk it up to a failure. push through the cold weather. racing heart, slow the beat, push through the defeat. no one knows, just push
March. 1945 unwanted from his first breath. a mother's blessing born, a father's burden worn. the bright shine of the sunrise along the tile floor to
He walks the streets collar up to the snowfall. holes in pockets and knees. sleeps in bar rooms and horse stalls. but you can't stay too long in one place
That soap box song stuck in his head. burdens lie in graves past by. he carries his weight. that anthem for the disenchanted rings loud in waves of grain
It still looks the same here after all these years. the junkies and the steamboat men, the sun never set on them here. he walks to his rundown home, hell
Climb those cemetery walls again; leave these flowers at your headstone. Climb those cemetery walls again, every night; you can't stand the sight of yourself
January, 1962 he awoke in a cold sweat to those old sounds of heartbreak. his brother at his side screaming "this isn't your fight". but that rush took
