Another day, sundown.
Another night, sundown.
Orange to black, sundown.
Fades to midnight blue.
There’s nothing I can’t do.
And here comes the night
And I don’t know why
I hear your voice
And I lose my way.
Where are you now?
Can I touch you somehow?
You’re somewhere near sleep where images fade.
And here comes the sun.
Another night is done.
Here comes the sun.
And here I go again.
Saw the man, shot down.
Heard his voice, shot down . Eyes rolled white, shot down. Breathe goodbye that sound. Fades to midnight blue. There’s nothing I can do.
Another day shot down.
Another night shot down.
Orange to black.
Fades to midnight blue.
There’s nothing I can do.
Chances were the premium at the chances store.
Called up their proprietor and asked for just one more.
Inside information suggested relocate
When they closed the chances store it sealed the users fate.
With no plans for the future and the future it is here.
Who knew that the sun would rise and whisper last nights fear?
So we headed for the highway which ended at the light.
Looked upon arrival, no chances store in sight.
Searching for the answers that will ease the fears.
Some will stand there crying and find few are buying tears.
All are someone’s baby lost along the way.
Strangers and sojourners who have lost the need to pray.
And I say, “Pray”
Get down on your knees sweet Charlotte , get down on your knees.
I know you have a mission and I hope it is to please.
Take me to your leader because I think I’ve found the cure.
It’s a love that is botanical with determination pure.
The day the voice moved in with me, he brought his good friend fear.
Said, ‘We all share your heart and soul you’ll soon forget we’re here.’
The day the voice moved in with me, peace and sleep moved out.
The addict he was at the door, and the voice he jumped to shout. Said, ‘We like you we like it here, we know you like us too.
And we know you’ll like our friends, cause true friends are so few.’
The voice would talk for hours about nothing much at all.
And all the noise would wake the fear and the drunk would wake withdrawal. Years had passed in tears and stains and I had to kill the fear.
The voice he left in the middle of the night, said he didn’t like it here.
The voice returns sometimes when I sleep but he’s gone when I’m awake.
The strength it took to kill the fear was more than he could take. And the drunk is with the addict and they live from coast to coast.
And sometimes when I pray to God, I pray you’re not their host.
Singing, ‘We like you, we like it here, we know you like us too.
And we know you’ll like our friends cause true friends are so few.’–Dennis Mantin