Buckshot Moon

Buckshot moon, bloodshot heart
 When are the good times going to start
 Burned out mouth, a turned out light
 It's a downhill road, it's an uphill fight
 Smoke on the glass in a twilight town
 Needle says empty but it's still going down
 On a five bar street in a one church town
 Twelve bar blues, frost on the ground
 Hard time wind on the hill tonight
 Main streets shining with Chistmas lights
 In the skyline dusk in the dark come down
 The seconds are broken but the hands go around
 And the snowfall comes with nightfall black
 Ice on the banks dust in the tracks
 Sere and gray as embers and cold
 But burning the branches are dreaming of gold
 How long, how long
 Until anything sets me on fire
 How long, how long
 Until I know
 Possession from desire