West of Rome
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Just east of the border in a staticy Ramada Inn
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Polishing his boots and pummelin' his liver
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Steeped in his dark isolation
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Just what business does, he have around here
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Credentials are wearing out with each little bit of cheer
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Yes, it's a bad scene we're convening
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Brushin' his teeth and milkin' his ulcer
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Preparing to waste another wily mornin'
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Strokin' himself and phoning up his sister
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He tells her their life would make one whale of a movie
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Yes, a childhood full of dry goods and wet neglect
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The father they now sponge off of
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They have no absorbin' respect
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Yes, he's a glad boy to have such a void
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Yes, he's a martyr crawling across cobble stones
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From his cozy cottages, just west of Rome
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Yes, it's a sad state for great sufferin'
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West Of Rome
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| Cowboy Junkies |
