Down past the
vacant mill
where the raillines
run crazy wild.
Where the willow tree
refuse to bloom
and the wind's
an orphan child.
All shards of glass
and rusting steel,
the world hanging
by a thread.
One more place
where angels
dare not tread.
Three days past
your last paycheck.
Your broke
and lost again.
There's not enough
to pay the rent.
Just enough for
one more gin.
Go back to the hovel
you call home
where you lay
your aching head.
Another place
where angels
dare not tread.
How did it get so far out of line?
When did you stop living
and start dying?
Your mother
once called you
a treasure
of the earth.
But now she's gone,
you don't remember
half of what
you're worth.
No one cares
how hard you've tried
or knows how
much you've bled
in this place
where angels
dare not tread.
