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Jason Isbell
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New South Wales
Here we sit.
'Cross the table from each other
Thousand miles from both our mothers
Barely old enough to rust
Here we sit.
Tending both our hearts, our anchor,
Taking candy from these strangers
Amidst the diesel and the dust
And here we sit.
Singing words nobody taught us
Drinking fire and spitting sawdust
Trying to teach ourselves to breathe
We have a gift.
And every chorus brings us closer
Every flier and every poster
Gives a piece of what we need
And the sand that they call Cocaine
Costs you twice as much as gold
Be better off to drink your coffee black.
But I swear the land it listened
To the stories that we told
God bless the busted boat that brings us back.
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Morning's rough
Don't give a damn about the Mission
Has no aesthetic or tradition
Only lessons never learned
And I'd had enough.
or more
Pardon holds no trace of sorrow
For the bitter and the burn
And the piss they call Tequila
Even Waylon wouldn't drink
Well I'd rather sip this Listerine I packed
But I swear we've never seen
A better place to sit and think.
God bless the busted ship that brings us back.
And the sand that they call Cocaine
Costs you twice as much as gold
Be better off to drink your coffee black.
But I swear the land it listened
To the stories that we told
God bless the busted boat that brings us back.
God bless the busted boat that brings us back.
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