| friends only ; all men are heroes in dreams |
[18 Feb 2011|07:24pm] |
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Across the border they turn water into wine. Some say it's the devil's blood they're squeezing from the vine. Some say it's a saviour in these hard and desperate times. For me it helps me to forget that we're just born to die. I came here like so many did to find the better life. To find my piece of easy street. To finally be alive. I know nothing good comes easy, and all good things take some time. I made my bed I'll lie in it. To die in it's the crime. You can't help but prosper where the streets are paved with gold. They say the oil wells ran deeper here than anybody's known. I packed up on my wife and kid and left them back at home. Now there's nothing in this paydirt. The ghosts are all I know. Now the oil's gone. The money's gone, and the jobs are gone. Still we're hangin' on. Down in dry county they're swimming in the sand Praying for some holy water to wash the sins from off our hand. Here in dry county the promise has run dry. Where nobody cries, and no one's getting out of here alive. In the blessed name of Jesus, I heard a preacher say that we are God's children and He'd be back someday. I hoped that he knew something as he drank his cup of wine. I didn't have too good of a feeling as I head out to the night. I cursed the sky to open. I begged the clouds for rain. I prayed to God for water for this burning in my veins. It was like my soul's on fire, and I had to watch the flames. All my dreams went up in ashes, and my future blew away. Men spend their whole lives, waiting, praying for their big reward, but it seems sometimes the payoff leaves you feeling like a dirty whore. If I could choose the way I'll die? Make it by the gun or knife. 'Cause the other way there's too much pain night after night after night.
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