|
(Kinky Friedman)
Walking on the ragged streets of time
A man is asking if there is a dime
Someone can spare.
No one pays him any mind,
But surely someone sees him there a-crying
When no one's there.
And the washed out whore demands
The bottle in his hands.
Ah, Mister, don't you weep,
God knows we've tried to keep
The Golden Rule and the
Top Ten commandments.
You can't believe the thing you've seen
On the midnight TV screen
And nightmare sent by satellite.
Rain fire falling from the skies
A mother holds her baby and crie
|
I'm leaving home
your baby's gone
My mind is ache
Ijust can't sleep
With that locomotion theme in my black old limousine.
No wooden heart
I feel the rain
They drink champagne
Ijust can't sleep
With that locomotion theme in my black old limousine.
My locomotion dream -
Locomotion dream - living here in my black old limousine
Locomotion dream - living here in my black old limousine
Locomotion dream - living here in my black old limousine.
Why don't you stay so far away
I just can't sleep with that locomotion
theme in my
|
In the gloaming, oh my darling
When the lights are soft and low
And the quiet shadows, falling,
Softly come and softly go
When the trees are sobbing faintly
With a gentle unknown woe
Will you think of me and love me,
As you did once, long ago
In the gloaming, oh my darling
Think not bitterly of me
Though I passed away in silence
Left you lonely, set you free
For my heart was tossed with longing
What had been could never be
It was best to leave you thus, dear,
Best for you, and best for me
In the gloaming, oh my darling
When the lights are soft
|
something about trains
something about love
something about this old earth
and the way it looks from up above
something about satellites
something about down below
something about the hissing of that old steam iron
as you press your clothes
beam it up beam it down across the world from town to town
most of the time when i'm walking the line i'm looking at the ground
But everytime I hear that whistle blowing
Everytime I hear that old black crow
Everytime I hear that whistle blowing
I find myself a-s
hivering in my soul
something about love
when th
|