You used to be a singer now you’re dancing in a play you didn’t write.
Lately I’ve been drinking and I’ve fought myself most every single night.
My tongue is far too clumsy for my beggars heart and eyes just like a child’s.
My body is still burning from the time she placed my hand within the fire.
They tell you luck is just a cycle,
If you wait enough it’s sure to come around.
The days have gotten shorter.
You’re no stranger to the snow that’s coming down.
And I woke up in the station, my shoes were gone, and I was lying on the ground.
Yes I read it in the paper that the war is won, but your kids aren’t coming home.
This old body of mine,
Well I, fell as if I’m already dying,
And I could have sworn that I’d have plenty of time left here for you.
These old boot heels of mine, well I’ve been down the loneliest miles.
Could have sown that I’d have plenty of time left here for you.
I heard your song a week ago come drifting from the prison down the road.
And Jehovah was your witness, and your child was the baby getting born.
You blessed him with self-confidence and gently pushed that poison through his bones.
And you baptized him in pity, and you cursed him with the lepers on the floor.
This old body of mine well I feel as if I’m already dying,
And I could have that I’d have plenty of time left here for you.
These old boot heels of mine, well I’ve been down the loneliest miles.
Always thought that I’d have plenty of time left here for you.