I don't know the sound of my father's voice
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I don't even know how he says my name
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But it plays out like a song on a jukebox in a bar
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In the back of my head till it's weary and mushy
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And in the cotton fields out by the house where I was born
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The leaves burn like effigies of my kin
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The trains run like snakes through Penacostal pine
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Filled up with cotton and fine slow gin
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Oh Jacksonville, how you burn in my soul
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How you hold all my dreams captive
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Jacksonville, how you play with my mind
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Oh my heart goes back, suffocating on the pines
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In Jacksonville
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The End, The End, The End
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All the cars are lined up on a Saturday night
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With the sky full of nothing but moon
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And I lose my reflection in the bottles of wine
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Till the morning comes down and I ain't nothing but you
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Now the diner in the morning for a plate of eggs
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The waitress tries to give me change I say, "Nah, it's cool. Just keep it"
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I read up my news, I start thinking about her
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And I wonder if anybody here besides me has got any decent secrets
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Oh Jacksonville, how you burn in my soul
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How you hold all my dreams captive
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Jackson-hell, how you play with my mind
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Oh my heart goes back, suffocating on the pines
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In Jacksonville
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The End, The End, The End
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-----------------
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The End
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Ryan Adams |