I was breaking bread with Jesus and dancing with his ma,
wound up without a change of clothing and running from the law.
Wound up down on Beale Street in Memphis Tennessee.
I whipped out little boy lost and she said, “come on home with me”.
Our guest room was a thrift shop, a two dollar gold frame still,
when I came to leave, she put a picture of a candle on the window sill.
I was drunk like the cobblestone and laughing like a dog.
I was bound for San Francisco. I’d heard a lot about the fog.
But I wound up down in Richmond somehow along the way
siphoning the night out of some old Chevrolet.
In the bar, she was disgusting, but I could not turn my head
to join in the dissection of a word, I couldn’t even pronounce, dead.
I was slapped by the sunrise and a crazy man named Day.
The heat was like a father. It was thick and in the way.
Wound up running from some angry policeman.
Then I was stretched out on park bench. I knew it was time to make my stand.
I stood up and fell down town to the 3rd St., Café.
The waitress wouldn’t say what, she just kept saying saying
“Child, I can see it all over your face.”
You’ll never find me begging, not straight up on the street.
I got nowhere to go, but I got my dancing feet.
I finally hit Francisco in it quickly hit me back.
It emptied out my wallet and stole my gunnie sack.
Didn’t touch my guitar I guess there’s honor among thieves
and luckily, I had stuffed angels both of my sleeves.
I found myself a back where they said nothing’s wild.
I walked in with my sadness and out with my smile. See?