Weather Forecast

‘Twas in another lifetime, but I’ve been in a couple of these “storms.”


Well, the deputy walks on hard nails and the preacher rides a mount
But nothing really matters much, it’s doom alone that counts
And the one-eyed undertaker, he blows a futile horn.
“Come in,” she said, “I’ll give you shelter from the storm.”
From last verse:
Well, I’m livin’ in a foreign country but I’m bound to cross the line
Beauty walks a razor’s edge, someday I’ll make it mine.

Stuff like that just isn’t written anymore.

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