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The End
I don't know the sound of my father's voice
I don't even know how he says my name
But it plays out like a song on a jukebox in a bar
In the back of my head
Till it's worrying maching
And in the cotton fields
By the house where I was born
The leaves burn like effigies of my kin
and the trains run like snakes
Through the pentecostal pines
Filled up with cotton and dime store gin
Jacksonville house you burden my soul
How you hold all my dreams captive
Jacksonville how you play with my mind
How my heart goes bad
Suffocating on the pines in Jacksonville
The End
All the cars are lined up on a Saturday night
With a sky full of nothing but moon
And I lose my reflection on a bottle of wine
Until the morning comes down.
And I an't nothing but blue
At the diner in the morning for a plate of eggs
The waitress tries to give me change, I say,
"Nah, It's Cool, You just keep it."
And I'm reading my news,
I start thinking about her
and I wonder if anybody here besides me
Has any descent secrets
Jacksonville, how you burden my soul
How you hold all my dreams captive,
Jacksonville, how you play with my mind
Oh, my heart goes bad suffocating on the pines
In Jacksonville
The End.
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The End.
In Jacksonville
Oh, my heart goes bad suffocating on the pines
Jacksonville, how you play with my mind
How you hold all my dreams captive,
Jacksonville, how you burden my soul
Has any descent secrets
and I wonder if anybody here besides me
I start thinking about her
And I'm reading my news,
"Nah, It's Cool, You just keep it."
The waitress tries to give me change, I say,
At the diner in the morning for a plate of eggs
And I an't nothing but blue
Until the morning comes down.
And I lose my reflection on a bottle of wine
With a sky full of nothing but moon
All the cars are lined up on a Saturday night
The End
Suffocating on the pines in Jacksonville
How my heart goes bad
Jacksonville how you play with my mind
How you hold all my dreams captive
Jacksonville house you burden my soul
Filled up with cotton and dime store gin
Through the pentecostal pines
and the trains run like snakes
The leaves burn like effigies of my kin
By the house where I was born
And in the cotton fields
Till it's worrying maching
In the back of my head
But it plays out like a song on a jukebox in a bar
I don't even know how he says my name
I don't know the sound of my father's voice
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