Testo Blue Island, Illinois

When I was a child I dreamed of a highway and a silver city in the sky now every road I'm on has got my name and number and the city's a good place to die just a town on a shut down train line black water creek, black flyin' crow sunday morning, God speaks right through you in a little church on an old brick road down at Barden Locker the men cut meat from the bone the women stare at pictures on the wall I'd give all I'll never own, just to be back home in Blue Island, Illinois the fields are bare in May in Blue Island, Illinois time slips sweetly sway my father was the son of a son of a farmer he cut the trees and sowed the land he taught me how to judge rain, sun, and winter but he saw I didn't have them farming hands so I left for working the bars of St. Louis and I was a docker in Port Elaine and I stole cars and I picked apples and I took 10 different names and I was blessed by the hand of a stranger and I was cursed by a friend comes a day you find every breath is poison and the broken wheel of life don't mend in Blue Island, Illinois the fields are bare in May in Blue Island, Illinois time slips sweetly sway now I got a room at the Y in Cleveland with a man who talks hard about Jesus Christ I roll him smokes when his hands are trembling but I never once look in his eyes he sells his blood, every thursday morning and tomorrow I think I'll go with him the dreams we got, well I just can't tell you they're mostly taken by the wind