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 weary and mushy

And in the cotton fields out by the house where I was born

The leaves burn like effigies of my kin

The trains run like snakes through Penacostal pine

Filled up with cotton and fine slow gin

Oh Jacksonville, how you burn in my soul

How you hold all my dreams captive

Jacksonville, how you play with my mind

Oh my heart goes back, suffocating on the pines

In Jacksonville

The End, The End, The End



All the cars are lined up on a Saturday night

With the sky full of nothing but moon

And I lose my reflection in the bottles of wine

Till the morning comes down and I ain''t nothing but you

Now the diner in the morning for a plate of eggs

The waitress tries to give me change I say, ~Nah, it''s cool. Just keep it~

I read up my news, I start thinking about her

And I wonder if anybody here besides me has got any decent secrets

Oh Jacksonville, how you burn in my soul

How you hold all my dreams captive

Jackson-hell, how you play with my mind

Oh my heart goes back, suffocating on the pines

In Jacksonville

The End, The End, The End





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