Half Drunk In Jesus Town

church bells ringing
down by the mission
walking these streets again

down by the old feed store,
and the row of empty buildings,
listening to the ghosts of the past.

the railroad tracks stand silent,
that old train dont run anymore.
here and there people walking,

aint nobody talking,
stray dogs and broken bottles,
stopped to light one last cigarette.

i can still hear my mother calling,
can still see my daddy's tired eyes,
can still hear the preacher, and

them old songs
but you cant take me down
to the water anymore.

old signs falling in the wind
take one last draw from the bottle
cant bring back what you never had

half drunk in Jesus town.

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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