Matraca Berg

Oh, the sun rolls down, big as a miracle And fades from the Midwest sky And the corn and the trees wave in

(Matraca Berg/Jim Photoglo/Harry Stinson) You turn around Then you ask me behind tears of doubt

I saw you standing there Outside the windows of my heart So cold and shivering There in your world that

Sunday morning, a quarter past ten The congregation says amen The friends and neighbors come rolling in

Saturday, I drove into town In the co-op where your friends hang out I heard one say "What's she

He came into town in the early springtime To work with my daddy down in the mines It was hot in the summer

(Matraca Berg/Gary Harrison) I've been living on the wrong side of Memphis I'm really breaking

You can't run from your blues You can't waltz across Texas in a beat up Subaru So I sat a bar down

I can't eat, I can't sleep, I got nubs where my fingernails used to be And my cat is lookin'

He ran hard, he ran fast A fallen angel on a weekend pass Never looked forward, never looked back A

She fixes her hair every morning, long before seven o'clock She'll tell you with her hair that piled up,

There's a firefly in love with a distant star Looking longingly up through the atmosphere Tiny beacon

Praise and worship Bow your head Say a prayer for the too soon dead Call it God's will Call it

It was a long, hard road, it was all up hill We nearly lost our way, we nearly lost our will So we clung to

The world explodes in violence While the angels cry in vain 'Cause they know the enemy is silent