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Steve Gates
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Godforsaken
Godforsaken
Whiskey runs around this town
Like a fire burning underground
But there is no amount of water
An' there is no amount from man
Godforsake the man
Godforsake the man
Pine trees twisted but proud
Parting for the highway and the summer crowds
But there is no amount of money
And there is no amount of land
Godforsake the man
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Godforsake the man
Who built these bridges here
Oh godforsake the man
Godforsake the man
Godforsake the man
Who built these bridges an' tears them down
Who gives them money and tears them down
A museum of wilderness confines
Memories trapped in smaller tongues to resign
But there is no amount of money
And there is no amount from man
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