Альбом Drive-By Truckers

When he reached the gates of heaven
He didn’t understand
He knew that folks were coming over
Or was it all a dream?
Was it all a crazy dream?

He saw them playing there before him
What were they doing there?
It felt like home, It must be alright
Or is it just a dream?
Is it just a crazy dream?

Memories replay before him
All the tiny moments of his life
Laying round in bed on a Saturday morning
Two daughters and a wife
Two daughters and a beautiful wife

Meanwhile on Earth his friends came over
Shocked and horrified
Dolls and flowers at the storefront
Everybody cried
Everybody cried and cried

Is there vengeance up in heaven?
Are those things left behind?
Maybe everyday is Saturday morning
Two daughters and a wife
Two daughters and a beautiful wife
Two daughters and a beautiful wife

It was a straight shot
All it took was luck to not get caught
I laid three dimes down and the machine wanted 25 cents
In the back seat her and a friend,
one out the window and the other on the other end
One belt loop away from Sunday night's news

If the part about being who he was didn't help Tom get loose,
what's a guy without a T. gonna get? Totally screwed,
while chicken wing puke eats the candy apple red off his Corvette
Three dimes down and 25 cents shy of a slice of the Doublemint twins
Come back baby, Rock and Roll never forgets

I got a brand new car that drinks a bunch of gas
I got a house in a neighborhood that’s fading fast
I got a dog and a cat that don’t fight too much
I got a few hundred channels to keep me in touch
I got a beautiful wife and three tow-headed kids
I got a couple of big secrets I’d kill to keep hid
I don’t know God but I fear his wrath
I’m trying to keep focused on the righteous path

I got a couple of opinions that I hold dear
A whole lot of debt and a whole lot of fear
I got an itch that needs scratching but it feels alright
I got the need to blow it out on Saturday night
I got a grill in the backyard and a case of beers
I got a boat that ain’t seen the water in years
More bills than money, I can do the math
I’m trying to keep focused on the righteous path

I’m trying to keep focused as I drive down the road
On the ditches and the curves and the heavy load
Ain’t bitching bout things that aren’t in my grasp
Just trying to hold steady on the righteous path

There’s this friend of mine I’ve known all my life
Who can’t get it right no matter how hard he tries
He’s got kids he don’t see and several ex-wives
And a list of bad decisions bout eight miles wide
Trouble with the law and the IRS
And where he’ll get the money’s anybody’s guess
He’s a long way off but if you was to ask
He’d say he’s trying to stay focused on the righteous path

Trying to keep focused as we drive down the road
Like we did back in High School before the world turned cold
Now the brakes are thin and the curves are fast
We’re trying to hold steady on the righteous path

We’re hanging out and we’re hanging on
We’re trying the best we can to keep keeping on
We got messed up minds for these messed up times
And it’s a thin thin line separating his from mine

Trying to hold steady on the righteous path
80 miles and hour with a worn out map
No time for self-pity or self-righteous crap
Trying to stay focused on the righteous path

I just met Huston, He was lookin' for your door.
He said he'd like to buy a horse.
I saw he had a map of the county in his hand.
He had your house circled red.
Cherokee is too damn far to come back by and ol’ Huston needs a ride.

You just missed Huston, He was lookin' so confused.
I guess he really needed you.
He was old and tired and lookin' for the truth.
I guess ol’ Huston's got the blues.
Cherokee is too damn far to go back dry, I promise Huston I'll try.

You ain't givin' up on lookin' for your thing,
even if you probably should.
I'm sorry Huston. I ain't got what you need
but I promise you I'd help you if I could.

Here I am again perfect timing,
the strings are ringing and the words are rhyming
I used to hate the fool in me, but only in the morning
now I tolerate him all day long

Out on the highway, I hear the moaning
That low and lonesome whisper,
you only know from longing,
through those naked trees at the windows glowing orange,
taking over that cold shoulder racing by

I might have known before
if I'd got this old before I thought I got too cool to give a damn
That who you see in dreams at night seem to spend their afterlives
trying hard to live the last one down

Here I am again perfect timing,
the strings are ringing and the words are rhyming
I used to hate the fool in me, but only in the morning,
now I tolerate him all day long

Daddy needs a drink to deal with all the beauty
To deal with all the madness to keep from blowing up
Daddy needs a drink to calm down the badness
To execute his gladness on the fullness of his cup

Daddy needs a drink to keep the wheels from rubbing
To compensate for nothing or nothing going on

Daddy needs a drink so Mama fix one quick
Pour it nice and strong with your cleaning outfit on

Daddy needs a drink to hem in his demons
To hear through baby screaming or the TV set turned on
There ain’t nothing on the radio like the wave my transmitter’s on
Put that drinking jacket on and enjoy a little fog

It was 1990 give or take I don't remember
when the news of revolution hit the air
The girls hadn't even started taking down our posters
when the boys started cutting off their hair
The radio stations all decided angst was finally old enough
it ought to have a proper home
Dead fat or rich nobody’s left to bitch
about the goings' on in self destructive zones

The night the practice room caught fire
there were rumors of a dragon headed straight for Muscle Shoals
"Stoner tries to save an amplifier"
and it's like the dragon's side of the story is never told
When the dream and the man and the girls hang around long enough
to make you think it's coming true,
it's easier to let it all die a fairy tale,
than admit that something bigger is passing through

The hippies rode a wave putting smiles on faces,
that the devil wouldn’t even put a shoe
Caught between a generation dying from its habits,
and another thinking rock and roll was new
Till the pawn shops were packed like a backstage party,
hanging full of pointy ugly cheap guitars
And the young'uns all turned to karaoke,
hanging all their wishes upon disregarded stars

My Grandaddy's shotgun is locked in a closet
and it never shot a thing that could have lived
An old man decided that you couldn't choose your poison
till you're nearly old enough to vote for him
They turned what was into something so disgusting
even wild dogs would disregard the bones
Dead fat or rich nobody’s left to bitch
about the goings' on in self destructive zones

Bob goes to church every Sunday, Every Sunday that the fish ain't biting
Bob never has to have dinner with the preacher,
cause Bob never bothered getting married
He likes to drink a beer or two every now and again,
he always had more dogs than he ever had friends
Bob ain't light in the loafers, he might kneel but he never bends over

Bob takes care of his mama, she's the only one he lets call him Robert
She don't drive anymore so he takes her to the store
and keeps her yard looking just like she wants it
Every week at the beauty shop Bob's mama hears
of another woman made another man disappear
Robert ain't exactly scared of women, he's just got his own way of living

Bob's still got an antenna on a pole
two channels come in, two more come and go
He used to watch the news but he don't anymore,
ain't none of it new it's the same as before
He figures all any of it's any good for is keeping every bored
till there ain't nobody like Bob anymore

Bob takes care of his mama
she's a mess but he feels like he oughta
How big a mess today? Ask Bob he'll say,
“She's a big one and she's gonna be a lotta”
He likes to drink a beer or two every now and again,
he always had more dogs than he ever had friends
Bob ain't light in the loafers, he might kneel but he never bends over

You ain't much of a player and you ain't playin' for free.
You just know all the chatter and you've been chattin' at me.
Now you're takin' me down with a home field advantage.
And you're callin' me out with a home field advantage.

You may have thrown me a curveball. Yeah, you threw a doozie at me.
You ain't too fast cause you're so tall. You threw a doozie at me.
And now you're takin' me down with a home field advantage.
And you're callin' me out with a home field advantage.

You don't know what to do. Yeah, you're lookin' around.
Nobody's at home and you don't know the count.
Well, you break and run just to tie it up.

You're takin' me down with a home field advantage.
And you're callin' me out with a home field advantage.

There’s a big fat man on a mechanical bull in slow motion like Debra Winger
And he gets knocked off and I think he’s hurt,
It’s a bitch facing facts and figures
There’s a band on stage that used to be huge
They sound on but no one’s listening
They’re told to turn down and they politely oblige
Ain’t no such thing as a free ride

It ain’t my problem and it ain’t my show and I ain’t being condescending
It’s just the opening slot and I hit my mark and split as the crowd is thinning

The man’s on the guest list so I guess it will be alright…

So the paramedics arrive and they haul off that Urban Bovine Kneivel
I see my friend and give him all my money and tell myself it’s a necessary evil
And it’s all such a fleeting thing so I’d best try and enjoy it
So much beauty and just enough time to figure out how to destroy it

I’m just the opening act

And it ain’t my crowd and it ain’t my night but I’d be lying if I said I can’t relate
I’m just the opening act and the van is packed and I’m hauling ass to another state

And I’m driving north as the sun was rising over a Technicolor horizon
I reached out to touch you but you’re not there, a thousand miles away from here
I turned up the radio; heard some preacher talking salvation
My tank is half full and I reached over and changed the station

I’m just the opening act

It's always Lisa's birthday when I get that call
She's got no money for a cab she's way to drunk to walk
Lisa's had more birthdays than there are sad country songs
about trying to love two women and only taking one girl home

It's a good thing that her dancing shoes don't run on gasoline
She could dry up Texas in one night the way she feels that beat
If I don't find them under the bed we make love on,
she's lighting Lisa's candles and they'll be burning all night long

So happy birthday Lisa Good evening Jim Beam
Goodnight all you socialites don't wait up for me
I'll be out way past the time the scenes' no sight to see
Ya'll don't live with Lisa
And she don't stay with me

It's always Lisa's birthday when I get that call
Her car's not where she parked it it's with her wallet and her phone
Lisa's had more birthdays than there are sad country songs
about trying to love two women and only taking one girl home

I get older and Lisa keeps on turning twenty-one

That man I shot, He was trying to kill me
He was trying to kill me He was trying to kill me
That man I shot I didn’t know him
I was just doing my job, maybe so was he

That man I shot, I was in his homeland
I was there to help him but he didn’t want me there
I did not hate him, I still don’t hate him
He was trying to kill me and I had to take him down

That man I shot, I still can see him
When I should be sleeping, tossing and turning
He’s looking at me, eyes looking through me
Break out in cold sweats when I see him standing there

That man I shot, shot not in anger
There’s no denying it was in self-defense
But when I close my eyes, I still can see him
I feel his last breath in the calm dead of night

That man I shot, He was trying to kill me
He was trying to kill me, He was trying to kill me
Sometimes I wonder if I should be there?
I hold my little ones until he disappears

I hold my little ones until he disappears
I hold my little ones until we disappear
And I’m not crazy or at least I never was
But there’s this big thing that can’t get rid of

That man I shot did he have little ones
That he was so proud of that he won’t see grow up?
Was walking down his street, maybe I was in his yard
Was trying to do good I just don’t understand

This ain't exactly hell.
It sure as hell ain't heaven.
I love you like the dickens and I miss you like the Devil.
I guess I'll do my time waitin' in this purgatory line.
Angels here are wearin' fancy new perfume,
and all the bread's unleavened.
Well I guess it'll have to do till I find you.
I don't know what I'm doin' here or why
I'm waitin' in this purgatory line.

I ain't exactly up.
I ain't gone too far down.
I'm lookin' for some answers and there ain't no one around.
I guess I'll lose my mind waitin' in this purgatory line.
If Jesus walked on water then where'd he get them shoes?
It just keeps gettin' harder to lose these walkin' blues.
I want you to come and take me home for a while.
Save me from this purgatory line.

Sometimes I can laugh.
Other times I cry.
It ain't exactly funny. My feet are both on fire.
I guess they'll just burn for a while waitin' in this purgatory line.
Lovin' you is so easy, but waitin' here just ain't.
I know I can be patient, but please don't hesitate to cross my mind.
That's all I've got for a while.
Waitin' in this purgatory line.

The hours creep across the face
As she paces across the floor
She can’t even get to sleep since Tony went to war
She feels bitchslapped and abandoned
By a world she thought she knew
Cold beyond comprehension as their little girl turns two

Now they’re saying on the flat screen
They ain’t found a reason yet
We’re all bogged down in a quagmire
And there ain’t no end to it
No Nine Eleven or Uranium to pin the bullshit on
She’s left standing on the home front
The two of them alone

A bloody nose, empty pockets, a rented car with a trunk full of guns
It ain't true that the sun don't rise in Vegas,
I've seen it once
She might have been somebody's mama
he might have been somebody's son
but if the sun went down on them that night in Vegas,
they're luck was good as gone

They'll be after me by the time the buffet closes,
making sure sin city still shines brighter than creations dark
If all you need is a badge to take what's left from those who lost it,
a badge ain't no more real than bullets are

A bloody nose, empty pockets, a rented car with a trunk full of guns
Checkout time is sundown in Las Vegas,
but it only rises once

You’ve become such a mess. You and your crystal meth

You lost your family and wrecked your truck, I used to love you but now you suck
We were friends, among the best; You and your crystal meth

I ain’t exactly a no-drug guy, Don’t dig the way that you get high
Hope your kids don’t see you throwing up, Hope they ain’t there if the house blows up
Hope you ain’t murdered in your sleep, Up all night with that cranked out creep
You ain’t eaten and you ain’t slept; You and your crystal meth

Indiana and Alabama, Oklahoma and Arizona.
Texas, Florida, Ohio, Small town America, right next door
Blood soaked your pillow red; You and your crystal meth

Honey, take care of the children, make them do as they’re told
I got a meeting in the morning down at the end of the Goode’s Field Road
Nothing much for a man in my position
A man like me don’t last too long in prison
And all those friends down at Police Department
will act like they never had anything to do with me

Started out down at the junk yard taking orders from a moron
And a man my size don’t like taking orders from anyone
Bought myself an old beat up wrecker, built an empire with my labor brains and sweat
But it’s hard to make an honest living and a man takes any help he gets

Nothing much for a man in my position, a second mortgage and three
college kids’ tuition and all them friends that I helped along the way
Will act like they never had anything to do with me

But you and me, we had us some good times and I’ve always been a family
man deep down. Ain’t much a believer of hiring work from “out of state”
but they’ll be asking questions when I’m found. They’ll be asking
questions when I’m found

Honey, take care of the children, pay the house off when the salvage yard gets sold
And you don’t know nothing when the insurance man asks questions
Bout what went down at the Goode’s Field Road

I guess I'll never grow a sideburn
it's a shame with all I've got to go between
I hope somebody's cause takes soon
it's getting hard to find a place a root can sink
Mama said a lot of things and be thankful was the one she never minded saying twice
Thanks to her I can think clear enough,
to be thankful that she died before tonight

Saving everybody takes a man on a mission
with a swagger that can set the world at ease
Some believe it's God's own hand on the trigger
and the other dumping water in the streets
Talking tough is easy when it's other people's evil
and you're judging what they do or don't believe
It seems to me you'd have to have a hole you're own
to point a finger at somebody else's sheet

Baby every bone in my body’s gone to jumping
like they're gonna come through my skin
If they could get along without the rest of me, it wouldn’t matter if they did
But skeletons ain’t got nowhere to stick they're money
nobody makes britches that size
and besides you're a ghost to most before they notice,
that you ever had a hair or a hide

I don't know how good it does a man,
to keep on telling him how good it is he's free
free to wash his ghost down the drain,
and free for them to tell him there's no such a thing

It’s all about where you put the horizon
Said the Great John Ford to the young man rising
You got to frame it just right and have some luck of course
And it helps to have a tall man sitting on the horse
Tell them just enough to still leave them some mystery
A grasp of the ironic nature of history
A man turns his back on the comforts of home
The Monument Valley to ride off alone

And when the dust all settles and the story is told
History is made by the side of the road
By the men and women that can persevere
And rage through the storm, no matter how severe
And whether it’s a horse or a car or a train
There’s gonna be some fine times and there’s gonna be some pain
In the end it’s a silhouette framed by the sun
And just The Monument Valley when the evening comes

It’s a strong wind blowing on the open range
It’s gonna be beautiful and it’s gonna be strange
It’s where to plant the camera and when to say action
When to print the legend and when to leave the facts in
And when to turn your back on the comforts of home
And wander round The Monument Valley alone