| Bringing me down
|
| I’m running aground
|
| Blind in the light of the interstate cars
|
| Passing me by
|
| The busses and semis
|
| Plunging like stones from a slingshot on Mars
|
| But I’m here by the road
|
| Bound to the load
|
| That I picked up in ten thousand cafes and bars
|
| Alone with the rush of the drivers who won’t pick me up
|
| The highway, the moon, the clouds, and the stars
|
| The black-throated wind keeps on pouring in
|
| With its words of a life where nothing is new
|
| Ah, Mother American Night, I’m lost from the light
|
| Ohhh, I’m drowning in you
|
| I left St. Louis, the City of Blues
|
| In the midst of a storm I’d rather forget
|
| I tried to pretend it came to an end
|
| Because you weren’t the woman I thought I once met
|
| But I can’t deny that times have gone by
|
| When I never had doubts or thoughts of regret
|
| And I was a man when all this began
|
| Who wouldn’t think twice about being there yet
|
| The black-throated wind keeps on pouring in
|
| And it speaks of a life that passes like dew
|
| It’s forced me to see that you’ve done better by me
|
| Better by me than I’ve done by you
|
| What’s to be found, racing around
|
| You carry your pain wherever you go
|
| Full of the blues and trying to lose
|
| You ain’t gonna learn what you don’t want to know
|
| So I give you my eyes, and all of their lies
|
| Please help them to learn as well as to see
|
| Capture a glance and make it a dance
|
| Of looking at you looking at me
|
| The black-throated wind keeps on pouring in
|
| With its words of a lie that could almost be true
|
| Ah, Mother American Night, here comes the light
|
| I’m turning around, that’s what I’m going to do
|
| Going back home that’s what I’m going to do
|
| Turning around
|
| That’s what I’m going to do
|
| Because you’ve done better by me
|
| Than I’ve done by you |