| The rough ways ashore
|
| In the will of her eyes
|
| And a monkey’s controller
|
| What’s left of her life
|
| Hopelessly empty
|
| She’s parked all she owns
|
| In a rusted out Chevy
|
| Off a Chert County road
|
| Sadness and pleasure
|
| Fences and walls
|
| Yeah, she never could ever
|
| Make sense of it all
|
| Was she pretty? |
| Was she scattered?
|
| Did she grow up too soon?
|
| Now none of that matters
|
| When the flame licks the spoon
|
| But her booktexts remembers
|
| As her dreams fade to black
|
| How the weight of a nickel
|
| Broke an honest girl’s back
|
| The blood of the devil
|
| Flows through the needle
|
| And the last angel singing
|
| That Ave Maria
|
| There’s a dark spirit rolling
|
| Over Dixie tonight
|
| And these black bells are tolling
|
| As she drifts from the line
|
| The blood of the devil
|
| Flows through the needle
|
| And the last angel singing
|
| That Ave Maria
|
| The last angel singing
|
| That Ave Maria |