Lyrics: Western In A

The ground came rushing up, with the night in swing.
A wine red cup, a moon for a king.

What for? What for?

I grabbed what I could as I went for that door.
But there she stood, her hands in the sink.

What for? What for?

I winced as she spoke, saying, "Love, where will you go?"
"Thought the concrete is warm, those boots aren't soled."

What for? What for?

"Sure, my pockets are holed. Yes, my money it won't fold."
"But I got my youth. I don't need your home."

What for? What for?

The ground came rushing up with the morning in swing.
An open guitar case. A curb for a king.

What for? What for?

So, I slipped as I crept up to the door, but there you were alive with bloom.
And you said, "Babe you're going just a little too soon...that this house is a home, not a tomb."
Now that perfume that's swirling off your bed, brings my thoughts to the phrase that once you said...
Said, "A life...a life that has no love, is the one that you won't want etched in stone..."