long lonley roads and cold empty nights
lies and truth mixed with wrongs and rites
tired gripping hands that hide from the cold
empty bottles that hold the price of his soul
memories of momma and a little girls smile
drift in and out but haunt all the while
he could of done better the town folk all say
he pays em no mind they dont no he'l say
the lines on his face are a road map through hell
sometimes he's awaken by cold sweat and the sound of his yell
he walks with a stager and try's not to fall
his home is a box off 3rd by a wall
wher he goes to rest or to dream sometimes
and think of his life and his worldly crimes
like loveing so much good and bad you see
and a wicked liquid deamon that wouldnt set him free
so he lays down his troubles and bids another day goodby
as the stars twinkle softly a drifters lulaby
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