| Memories of Crescent City
|
| Wednesday nights at the Rock-n-Bowl
|
| On the bandstand there is Snooks and guitar
|
| Pure gasoline for the soul
|
| Take me back to the Mound City
|
| Any night across town
|
| Bennie for blues and James for barrel house
|
| The brown eyed handsome man is still around
|
| You give yourself to the world
|
| You don’t hold back much of anything
|
| Mother Theresa to the animal kingdom
|
| You know how high to set the bar
|
| You give your words freely
|
| Takes it back to familiar ground
|
| But when you hold your cards close to your chest
|
| It shows you’ve been pushed too far
|
| Looking back on Louisiana
|
| Where the dirty water flows
|
| And life there is a little easier
|
| As anyone who has been through knows
|
| Conversations turn to metaphors
|
| Cards to the table you bring
|
| Fold your hand but save your best for later
|
| Don’t know how long these angels sing
|
| You give yourself to the world
|
| You don’t hold back much of anything
|
| Mother Theresa to the animal kingdom
|
| You know how high to set the bar
|
| You give your words freely
|
| Takes it back to familiar ground
|
| But when you hold your cards close to your chest
|
| It shows you’ve been pushed too far
|
| But when you hold your cards close to your chest
|
| It shows you’ve been pushed too far |