Whiskey and Black Nights

empty headed, just me and Jesus drinking jack, both trying to forget our name, both victims of the insane. Sitting watching, soil turning to mud. rotting seeds and black roots, we pray. the rain it never stops. In silence we drink, as eternal sorrowful clouds cries its tears, upon the wandering souls below. Don't come here, looking for shelter from your sins, or forgiveness for your failures, our blood runs cold, just whiskey and water flowing in our veins, and when the treacherous sun, rises upon the dusty morning. the black crows on the wire laugh. as man crawls on his belly again today, and Jesus kicks a beer can down the road.