Cold iron shackles, ball and chain. You listen to the whistle of the evening train. You know you bound to wind up dead. If you don't head back to Tennessee Jed.
Come on kids, ya'll come with me. Let's go looking for a Christmas tree. Cross the river and through the woods. I got my axe and it works real good. .
In Candy's room there are pictures of her heroes on the wall. But to get to Candy's room you gotta walk the darkness of Candy's hall. Strangers from the city, call my baby's number and they bring her toys.
There's a man workin' in a field. See's the rain and it's burning. He's saying this can't be real. Oh as he sees the color of the fields turning. . Far away them too busy getting rich to care.
Is he sane or insane. That's all they want to know. Is he crazy or strange then. If so I want to go. I've seen him leave at night. Followed him so far.
You know I think it's a funny thing. People talk without listening. People listen without hearing. I do it all the time. . You know it's a funny phenomenon.
More and more, I'm forgetting the past. More and more, I'm living at last. . Day by day, I'm losing my blues. More and more, I'm forgetting about you.
I'm walking outside and I see you arrive. I say, "Let's go for a ride, and have a good old time". Whoa, I'm saving up lies, or just stay quiet every time.
Lights out tonight. Trouble in the heartland. Got a head-on collision. Smashin' in my guts man. I'm caught in a crossfire. That I don't understand. But there's one thing I know for sure.
Life In The Psychotropics. Bruce Hornsby. Life in the psychotropics, colorful and bright. Hypnotics have the bonus of a light show every night. Aderall picks me up and my Ambien brings me down.
Let my inspiration flow in token rhyme, suggesting rhythm. That will not forsake you, till my tale is told and done. While the firelight's aglow, strange shadows in the flames will grow.
Sitting in the kitchen listening to the rain. Washing away my blues. I don't worry when I'm happy again. Living is it's own good news. I comb my hair like a straight A student.
I'm leaning on a rail. Letting my eyes roam over the plain. I'm laughing on my break. Feeling like a captive on a long chain. Watch the people pick up sticks.
I met a fan dancer down in southside Birmingham. She was running from a fat man selling salvation in his hand. She said he's trying to save me. But I'm doing alright, the best that Ican.
I never fly, they say you don't know what you're missing. Your dreams just come alive, but I forget to try. So I, I never fly. . Warm in my bed, the places I imagine.
I met a fan dancer down Southside Birmingham. She was running from a fat man selling salvation in his hand. She said he's tryin' to save me but I'm doin' alright, the best that I can.
Every once in a while I think about you. And your strawberry hair. And little things that we used to do. I even called your old number. But it wasn't the same.
Yes, I do come here often but I don't call it alone. I've got a house up on Third but I wouldn't call it a home. These days I have secrets and I don't call them dreams.
Imagine there's no heaven. It's easy if you try. No hell below us. Above us only sky. Imagine all the people living for today. . Imagine there's no countries.
Some days I just wanna cry. Oooo, but the days gone by. On the corner of Fifth Stree and Vine. Oooo, with a bottle of wine. The lights turn to red and I hustle for my bread.