Another night in this black water rain cloud Kicking through the puddles on his way up to the Greyhound and In his pocket is a letter from his mother, folded up saying... (Where have you been?) Yeah, but he wont write back Left his whole life on the nightstand Open up his wounds and let em bleed onto the white sand And you can label him another problem typecast And stay the hell away from him like everybody else has And thats exactly why he flees to the road Another notch in the war club he keeps in his soul And if you ever saw him swing it you would easily know And have the worried urge to ask him (Where have you been?) Yeah, but he wont answer Blinking as the headlights pass him Rip the chills off of his spine and throw them right at you But sometimes you dont really get what ask for And life gets so cold and you can never go back home
Posted on: Thu, 18 Sep 2014 04:30:13 +0000
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