| Disc 1 | ||||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1. |
| - | 
|
|||
| 2. |
| - |
|
|||
| 3. |
| - |
|
|||
| 4. |
| - | 
|
|||
|
They tell me miracles abound now more than ever, but I dont care.
They say its better to be blessed than it is to be clever, but I dont care. Cause I got 10 miles to go on a 9 mile road, and its a rocky rough road, but I dont care. For lifes nothing if not a blind rambling prayer, you Keep your head held high, awalking and atalking til the power of Love deliver you there. The power of love deliver you there. The power of love deliver you there. The power of Love deliver you...you... You dont get nothing for free, less of course you steal it, at least thats what the people say. The sad irony of Love is how so seldom you feel it, yet its all you dream about, night and day. From the splinter in the hand, to the thorn in the heart, to the shotgun to the head, you got no choice but to learn to glean solace from pain or youll end up cynical or dead. Me, I got 10 miles to go on a 9 mile road and its a rocky rough road, but I dont care. For lifes nothing if not a blind rambling prayer, you keep your head held high, awalking and atalking and atalking and awalking, til the power of Love deliver you there. The power of Love deliver you there. The power of Love deliver you there. The power of Love deliver you...THERE!!! Sometimes you throw yourself into the sea of faith, and the sharks of doubt come and they devour you. Other times you throw yourself into the sea of faith only to find the treasure lost in the shipwreck inside of you! There aint no guarantee, none of that nonsense like on tv, just gotta roll the dice and take your lumps. Youre gonna get yourself knocked down, so better learn to stand back up, for those who dwell on disaster let sorrow be their master. Me, I got 10 miles to go on a 9 mile road and its a rocky rough road, but I dont care. Cause lifes nothing if not a |
||||||
| 5. |
| - |
|
|||
|
Where in the world did you come from my dear?
Did some mysterious voice tell you I'd still be here? I bought this ticket to Mobile, but I been stranded all day P.a. said the bus broke down ten miles away from the station. [Chorus] So seldom a door, so seldom a key, so seldom a hit like the hurt you put on me. But seldom comes happiness without the pain of the devil in the details Since I saw the smile on your face As I was crying in a Greyhound station on Christmas Day, in 1998. The burden of love is the fuel of bad grammar. You stutter and stammer--what a bitch to convey the crux of the matter, When the words you must utter are hopelessly tangled In the memories and scars you show no one. [Chorus] I remember quite clearly, a bad Muzak version of James Taylor's big hit, Called "Fire and Rain" was playing as you crouched down and tearfully kissed me, And I thought, "Damn, what good fiction I will mold from this terrible pain." [Chorus] Amazing grace, how sweet the smile upon the face I never thought I'd see you again Especially here in this Greyhound station On Christmas Day In 1998. |
||||||
| 6. |
| - |
|
|||
|
Fools wind blowing up brown bible verses. Dust storm of memory. Truck stop reverie. 3 AM in my home town, not a soul stirring around. Mr. Trucker Man, don't slow down in this little town. 'Cause I'm traveling faster than the speed of regret. What I was born knowing I was bound to forget. In the blindness of being, what I was born seeing I was just plain bound to forget. Yes, I was just plain bound to forget. Now my tank run dry two hours out of Tucson by three little crosses on the side of the highway. Still as a box full of busted watches, I settle debts with the dead and keep right on...I keep on keeping on. Pedal to the metal on the wide open highway. Criss-cross the high plains of bright-eyed solitude, I tailgate a truck-load of tabula rasa...'til my mind go clearer than the highway west of El Paso. Guess I'm traveling faster than the speed of regret. What I was born knowing I was bound to forget. In the blindness of being what I was born seeing, I was just plain bound to forget. Yes I was just plain bound to forget. Now, 24/7 in the end my friend, gotta go at God's speed, no never relent, lest the soul-sucking, sneaky-deaky, belly-aching past like a ssssnake in the grasssssssss ssssstrike and bury your assssssss. So keep your eyes on the prize on the distant horizon. Be wary of the wind and the bad moon rising. Knowing in your going, somehow, some way, that you'll out-run your shadow...yes you will, one fine day. 'Cause you're traveling faster than the speed of regret. What I was born knowing I was bound to forget. In the blindness of being what I was born seeing I was just plain bound to forget, yes I was just plain bound to forget.
|
||||||
| 7. |
| - |
|
|||
|
I'm handcuffed to a fence in Mississippi.
My girlfriend blows a boozy good-bye kiss. I see flying squirrels and nightmares of stigmata. Then awakening to find my Trans-Am gone. Still, I'm feeling pretty good about the future. Yeah, everything is peaches but the cream. I'm handcuffed to a fence in Mississippi, where things is always better than they seem. Things is always better than they seem. I see the guitar that my cousin played in prison, floating with the tv in the swimming pool. I'm calling for the owner of the motel, then noticing the bloodstain on the door. I'm reaching for the shoes under the bushes, just in time to hear the sirens sing. I'm handcuffed to a fence in Mississippi, where things is always better than they seem. Things is always better than they seem. You know freedom's just a stupid superstition, 'cause life's a highway that you travel blind. It's true that having fun's a terminal addiction. What good is happiness, when it's just a state of mind? For in the prison of perpetual emotion, we're all shackled to the millstone of our dreams. Me, I'm handcuffed to a fence in Mississippi, where things is always better than they seem. Things are always better than they seem. |
||||||
| 8. |
| - |
|
|||
|
Trailer for sale or rent, rooms to let fifty cents
No phone, no pool, no pets, I ain't got no cigarettes I am a, two hours of pushin' broom buys a Eight by ten four-bit room I'm a man of means by no means, caause I'm a king of the road Third boxcar midnight train, destination Bangor, Maine Old worn out suit and shoes, I don't pay no union dues I smoke old stogies I have found, short but not too big around I'm a man of means by no means,cause i'm a king of the road King of The Road. I'm just a King of the Road I know every engineer on every train All the children and all the good names every handout in every town And if it's locked itt ain't locked if no-one's around I say... Trailer for sale or rent, rooms to let fifty cents I'm a man of means by no means, king of the road 'Cause i'm a King of the Road I'm just a King of the Road King of the Road |
||||||
| 9. |
| - |
|
|||
| 10. |
| - |
|
|||
|
Bus stop rain...busted power train..got a broke down '69 LTD...
I hocked my tools...to buy my brain...a funeral wreath...from the FTD Blank billboards on the highway of life. Counterfeit bills in the neon lights. This stick-shift driven saw-dust dream, show-biz sho' ain't what it seems. Little hipster dufus with the guitar in a coffin. I been copping his licks about every so often. Then I flip-flop, go the other way... I rip off the dude where the colored girls say; doo-doo-do-doo-doo-do-doo-doo-do-do-doooo-dooooo See, I cut my teeth on the white lines of life's endless lonesome highways. Taking stock in the horizon... shouting at every fool that come my way--- "HEY!" I been shouting, "HEY! Can you gimme a ride? Are you going my way?" "HEY! Can you gimme a ride? Someone gimme a ride!" but ain't no one going my way. Now downtown they got the prison of shame. See the castaways of the Hollywood game? Tricked out whores with invisible pains. Cardboard people, dancing in the rain... to the same old tune, circling like a vulture with the busted juke-box of the popular culture. If it ain't got a beat, they won't put you on the street. Heavy on the bass, light on the feet. I meet the street poets in the bummed out bars. I hum my single as I jingle down the "Walk Of Stars" with the geeks and the freaks and the crooks and the hookers--- the burn-outs of life's pressure cookers. Now, these are my people, my church without a steeple, and though I never waste a tissue on an incidental issue, still I sympathize, 'cause I realize when I see the sorrow in their eyes. 'Cause I cut my teeth on the white lines of life's endless lonesome highways. Taking stock in the horizon... shouting at every fool that come my way--- "HEY!" I been shouting, "HEY! Can you gimme a ride? Are you going my way?" "HEY! Can you gimme a ride? Someone gimme a ride!" but ain't no one going my way. Now in the field of my mind I'm plowing the topsoil of my memory. Digging up bones and skeletones--- rusty relics from my past. Gotta put a new shine on the twists of time, redefine this old cemetery... Clear out the weeds, sow new seeds, sure I'm scared, but still I'm gonna carry on. 'Cause never did a body find their way home without showing first firm as a stone the conviction, the strength the courage that it takes to make a journey start For you got to be true, you got to be strong, 'specially when the long road home leads smack through the smoking ruins of your broken heart.And I know. 'Cause I cut my teeth on the white lines of life's endless lonesome highway... Taking stock in the horizon...shouting at every fool that come my way--- "HEY!" I been shouting, "HEY! Can you gimme a ride? Are you going my way?" "HEY! Can you gimme a ride? Someone gimme a ride!" but ain't no one going my way. |
||||||
| 11. |
| - |
|
|||
| 12. |
| - |
|
|||
|
