Whiskey was made from the sins of a con The barley that grew in an old graveyard The people who live to drink and yell The water from a slave-dug well; Aged in a barrel from a hangin tree From the rain of a mountain well never see Bottled by a man who was born to die And taken by a widow who killed that guy Delivered by a man who was meant for a cage Bought by a man who never turned a page Soaked this town from land to sea Drank by a man called me Whiskey was made outside of a jar But we put it in there so we can put it in a bar So we can put it inside just to get it out The words we keep inside of a mouth Burns and bleeds, and makes us leak The words of color we seldom speak Gets us right to do us wrong So a hard wood floor made a comfortable song Everyones talking, everythings black Everyones talking bout looking back When sweat is drinking the salt i bleed It swallows a man called me Whiskey was made from a coal minor bride Who lives alone and alone, she cries Cause her coal minors lungs turned black Theres a liver in her called a liquor sack Theyll bury her under that tree That drops its leaves on barley weed Just outside of where the prisoners stay Where they bury the ones who try to get away At the bottom of a hill, in mirror land Where there aint nothin but a grain of sand With rusty money, just let me be While Ill be damned by a drink called me
Posted on: Thu, 30 Jan 2014 10:00:15 +0000
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