Some say it was here, where the angels
laid down their wings and walked in boots a while
telegraph poles bend like crosses in the wind
seems we walk the road to Rome A.D. 39
I fell in with the sons of hired hands,
liquor's kin and gamblers poor at the game
the dice don't fall on the kind side of fortune
they keep falling just the same
who are these men drinking in their cars?
who are these women waiting on a train?
come night fall we'll be lying in a gutter
but some of us are looking at the stars
snow falls slow on Currant River
and the wind combs Watchtower Hill
and sometimes its peace and sometime sorrow
sometimes a judgment of days unfulfilled
there ain't much work worth the doing
but there's shelter, creeks, and apples warm and red
the towns of Missouri just make a man wonder
will he die alone or decently in bed?
who are these men sleeping in their cars?
who are these women staring down a train?
come night fall we'll be lying in a gutter
but some of us are looking at the stars
our eyes are wide with departure
like servants who've left the mansion door
wayfarers, thieves, apostles, and slaves
by morning we'll reach another shore