Shotguns

Shotguns ringing in the dead of night

Holy Ghost in the velvet light

Blind man singing for his Sunday meal

Look he gave you couldn't get more real

Storm is stirring at the break of day

God made man from a lump of clay

Howl with the wind, baby, howl with the sea

What does it all mean to me?

Ribbon tied to the funeral car

Old gang stumble into the bar

Sing us a song, girl, make it quick

If I'm here much longer, I'm gonna get sick

Sister sliding out the back door

She's gone looking for something more

Damned if you don't and damned if you do

Never was one with much to prove