Liquor store, liquor store one on every corner, checks cashed any time
NO I.D. Liquor store, liquor store, malt liquor cigarettes lottery. The
car is running and kicking out funes, you've disappeared inside to buy
the daily quota, I'm fending for myself to a popular tune, digging in
the ashtray, hoping for a quarter. Mile on mile of transient hotels,
unattended children with nowhere to play, anger rips down pine street in
the form of a black chevelle, but the baptists keep singin' away. One
lone palm tree is rising above it's glamour and dignity are so out of
place an ancient pick up truck is looking for a shove, the congregation
sings, amazing grace!
