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I'd sing 'Red River Valley' |
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He'd sit out in the kitchen and cry |
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Run his fingers through seventy years of livin' |
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And wonder, Lord, has every well I drilled, gone dry? |
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We was friends, me and this old man |
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Like desperados waiting for a train |
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Like desperados waiting for a train |
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He's a drifter and a driller of oil wells |
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An old school man of the world |
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Taught me how to drive his car when he's too drunk to |
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And he'd wink and give me money for the girls |
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And our lives was like some old western movie |
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Like desperados waiting for a train |
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Like desperados waiting for a train |
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From the time I could walk he'd take me with him |
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To a place called the Green Frog Cafe |
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And there was old men with beer guts and Dominos |
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Lyin' 'bout their lives while they'd play |
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And I was just a kid they all called his sidekick |
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Like desperados waiting for a train |
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Like desperados waiting for a train |
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One day I looked up and he's pushin' eighty |
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And there's brown tobacco stains all down his chin |
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To me he's one of the heroes of this country |
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So why's he all dressed up like them old men? |
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Drinkin' beer and playin' moon and forty two |
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Like desperados waiting for a train |
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Like desperados waiting for a train |
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The day before he died I went to see him |
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I was grown and he was almost gone |
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So we just closed our eyes and dreamed us up a kitchen |
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And sang another verse to that old song |
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Right, Jack, that son of a bitch is comin' |
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Like desperados waiting for a train |
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Like desperados waiting for a train, waiting |
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Like desperados waiting for a train |
