Childhood Blues

I never had much respect for the drunkards I knew
So my grandfather’s body lied dead on a bed in his room
And we never had much, but my father would work to the bone, then he’d quit and
come home
And Jesus Christ was always on my mind
And there’s a woman who’s haunted my thoughts since I was fifteen years old
She got married to a farmer and lives in Chicago, I’m told
And under African skies, it was there that I lied and told you that I would be
brave
But your father’s Jesus trip made me afraid
I never thought much of the drugs, I was having a blast
And I always got strapped, even when I was strapped for cash
Till one night I got stoned and I woke up alone, and I crawled to the bathroom
in shivers
And I opened my mouth, but nothing came out except a vague lofty prayer for
forgiveness
And I prayed to Jesus Christ to save my life