Homemade Wine Lyrics - 9th Ward Pickin' Parlor - Shawn Mullins

Sixty miles from El Paso 

Feelin' lonesome as can be 

Driving further from the heartache 

that was slowly killing me 

I left at 4 am last monday 

Filled my tank at luther's store 

I might be checking' in come sunday 

'cause i know by then she'll walk the floor 

She has it still inside her skull 

that i am hers and she is mine 

She's dead on empty and i am full of 

broken dreams and homemade wine 

There's a kid who plays the squeesebox 

on the border bridge on the juarez side 

He dances to the beat 

with no shoes on his feet 

to the music that he makes as i drive by 

And i felt just like the devil the whole night's pull 

But right this second I feel fine 

My tank is dead on empty, but i am full 

of broken dreams and homemade wine 

Now the gulf wind she sings to me a love song 

I can hear her from the boxcar that I ride 

Her voice is in my brain 

making music with this train 

that will soon take me to the other side 

And she might think that I'm coming back 

to hold her close and stop her cryin' 

But this freight train's 

traveling down a southbound track 

full broken dreams and hommade wine 

Just broken dreams and hommade wine 

Broken dreams and hommade wine