Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Purgatory Road , by - Ray Wylie Hubbard. Song from the album Growl, in the genre КантриRelease date: 31.03.2003
Record label: Concord, Rounder
Song language: English
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Purgatory Road , by - Ray Wylie Hubbard. Song from the album Growl, in the genre КантриPurgatory Road |
| Mama comes in from the kitchen |
| She tells me to fetch my brother |
| She wipes her hands on her apron |
| And says don’t be late for supper |
| I walk out on the front porch |
| The suns about to die |
| It’s still so hot the old dogs wouldn’t bark |
| Even if a car’s to drive by |
| There s a blue green Buick |
| And a flat black Ford |
| Jacked up off the ground |
| Daddy sitting on a stump and he’s looking bewildered |
| At the parts lying all around |
| We ain’t been no where at all since the Fairlane threw a rod |
| Whatever it is has been damned to hell by my daddy and God |
| Some are here working on a passage to Heaven |
| And others they can’t carry that load |
| A few are left singing the blues on Purgatory Road |
| It is just a mile or so to the edge of town |
| There ain’t much of one here now since the factories closed down |
| You got no jobs you got no people you got no businesses |
| The only thing left is the Kingdom Hall of Jehovah Witness |
| Mama she took me to church one time gonna get me baptized |
| Further on down the road there is something I realized |
| Now you might say its contempt prior to investigation |
| But nobody seems concerned about their Saviors procrastination |
| Some are here working on a passage to Heaven |
| And others they can’t carry that load |
| A few are left singing the blues on Purgatory Road |
| I just past the cemetery with it’s tumped over tomb stones |
| There’s a little tavern that’s called the Devils Backbone |
| It’s got your distilled spirits and Tennessee Sour Mash |
| And a little sign that says in God we trust, all others pay cash |
| My brother’s sitting on a chair in front of an old tweed amplifier |
| He’s playing bottle neck slide, steel on wire |
| Now when his mother died and his daddy left my momma she brought him home |
| And even thought he ain’t blood she raised him as her own |
| So now he sings them blues on an old Gibson 160E |
| And he don’t even now what color he is cause he can’t see |
| Some are here working on a passage to Heaven |
| And others they can’t carry that load |
| A few are left singing the blues on Purgatory Road |
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