| I say «God, if you ain’t smiling on me, then you ain’t no friend of mine.»
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| It’s late at night and this motel room’s
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| drunk, I been listening to the lonesome wind crying. |
| My best friend once said,
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| «Jim, what you cling to, that’s the thing
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| that you had best forget. |
| For ain’t no rose bed ever gonna bloom in an untended
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| field of regrets."Guess I been busy
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| killing time counting bullet holes in state line signs.
|
| I led a life of lonely drifting trying to rise above the buzzards
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| in my mind. |
| You get dizzy chasing 'round the tail of what you need
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| to leave behind. |
| Oh sweet Jesus, won’t you help me?
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| 'Cause all I’m trying to do is plant them seeds of love with that girl
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| from Brownsville, Texas. |
| Midnight radio, a crackly
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| white gospel station kicking out the sounds of some half-assed revival.
|
| Me, I never much cared for the feelings you get
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| «ing scriptures from out of the Bible. |
| For as the crow
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| flies I know only one cure for a permanent tear in your eye. |
| You
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| gotta crank like hell that rope on old sorrow’s well 'til the day
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| that the bucket comes up dry.
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| Now dreams are just
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| prayers without the put on airs… and though my history of dreams
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| is a scandal of back-assward schemes and romantic
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| disasters where Lord, you dealt me more cards than I could handle.
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| Still from the lips of this half-hearted sinner comes
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| the pledge of a half-baked saint. |
| 'Cause Lord I might finally be willing to become the religious fool you always wanted me to be… if in return we could just tell that girl I’m the man you
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| and me both know that I ain’t. |