Standing at the window her face to the glass As far as she can see the time has come to pass As far as she can see the sky is all ablaze And this looks
I played the Red River Valley He'd sit in the kitchen and cry Run his fingers through seventy years of livin' And wonder, "Lord, why has every well
Who wouldn't notic the fire in your eyes Or the bitter direction of impending goodbyes I'm fallen and folded and wilted in place At the sight of you
Ain't nothin' in the world that I like better Than bacon & lettuce & homegrown tomatoes Up in the mornin' out in the garden Get you a ripe one don't
the turn of a joke Ah, the smell of the black powder smoke and the stand in the street at the turn of a joke It's always keep your back to the sun
I like drinking whiskey I like being straight I like a voodoo spinners And I like live bait I like a hundred miles an hour I like Sunday driving too
. . ."antithesis of the 'Boot Scootin Boogie'. Right up my alley." I was sittin' on the fender of someone else's truck Drinking Old Crow whisky, hot
Standin' on the gone side of leavin'. She found a thumb and stuck it in the breeze. She'll take anything that's goin' close to somewhere. She can
The south coast of Texas is a thin slice of life It' s salty and hard it it stern as a knife Where the wind is for blwon' up hurricanes for showin'
And that old time feelin' goes sneakin' down the hall, Like an old gray cat in winter, keepin' close to the wall. And that old time feelin' comes stumblin
He's a wino, tried and true. Done about everything there is to do. He worked on freighters, he worked in bars. He worked on farms, 'n he worked on
I found comfort and courage from bottles of whiskey. I swear to you friends these old high times sure seem risky. I have backed away gently from those
I'm going down to Austin, Texas I'm going down to save my soul Get that bar-b-que and chili Eat my fill then come back home I'm gonna take my baby with
Eight years old with a flour sack cape tied all around his neck He climbed up on the garage, he's figurin? what the heck Screwed his courage up so tight
Eight years old with flour sack cape Tied all around his neck He climbed up on the garage Figurin? what the heck He screwed his courage up so tight
Vertaling: Guy Clark. Cape.
