• It was a gloomy sunday mornin'
    No church service today
    Listening to a Hungarian rap
    About his daily pains

    Made me cry out
    As I kissed my sweet Lucille
    Away...

    ~

    White flowers in the West
    Painted on every face
    They all spoke of sorrows
    And warm vacant dreams

    My dear Lucille sings
    To soothe their souls

    With that old southern blues
    Coursing through her lips

    She stares through the tears
    As her voice crumbles the cold, hard stones