The crescent moon sits waxing in the clear, blue sky tonight. Joanna sits relaxing down by the riverside. The cigarette she's smoking, a symbol of her sin.
She got a tattoo of a bracelet on her wrist. The love of strangers on her Christmas list. She ain't sentimental, she don't like to reminisce. She's a champion of action.
Destitute, desolation. Angels eyes shine upon my curse. From this mountain, I make my way. Along the railroad earth. . Steam train blazing a lonely hill.
Well, I don't know why it. Makes me cry when I. Think back on the. Things we done. . And I don't know when I'll. Feel again. Like this might be. Worth my while.
Born with blue eyes filled with pain. In March of 1922. Mystic fire in your veins. Mama's apron strangling you. Mama's apron strangling you. Mama's apron strangling.
I can feel you in the crowded bar room. As I get into my car. Music playing, beads of sweat descending. Down your skin to where your secrets are. . And I wanted.