The Weary Kind

I saw his picture nailed on the wall, a broken man grey and old hard miles
A hard life
She left hasty with her bags of gold, he will never really let her go
She’s in his soul

Startled off, without notion all is gone

So this is no kind of place for the weary kind I guess
I’m coming home with less though I started out from scratch
If I leave it all behind I’m a dead man on the ground
What keeps me alive kills me inside

The bottles empty, he starts again, thinking if he’d only clean his face
She’ll let him in
But the cave is deeper than Atlantic sea; her eyes will never let his mind be free
He never will again

Back inside the night where he falls out of sight

Lyrics

The Weary Kind