I don't know the sound of my father's voice I don't even know how he says my name But it plays out like a song on a jukebox in a bar In the back of my head till it's weary and mushy And in the cotton fields out by the house where I was born The leaves burn like effigies of my kin The trains run like snakes through Penacostal pine Filled up with cotton and fine slow gin Oh Jacksonville, how you burn in my soul How you hold all my dreams captive Jacksonville, how you play with my mind Oh my heart goes back, suffocating on the pines In Jacksonville The End, The End, The End
All the cars are lined up on a Saturday night With the sky full of nothing but moon And I lose my reflection in the bottles of wine Till the morning comes down and I ain't nothing but you Now the diner in the morning for a plate of eggs The waitress tries to give me change I say, "Nah, it's cool. Just keep it" I read up my news, I start thinking about her And I wonder if anybody here besides me has got any decent secrets Oh Jacksonville, how you burn in my soul How you hold all my dreams captive Jackson-hell, how you play with my mind Oh my heart goes back, suffocating on the pines In Jacksonville The End, The End, The EndTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
