Текст (слова) песни: Nanci Griffith - John Philip Griffith
He was a simple man only to a stranger. And the kindness in his eyes I still remember. Now that he is old, they say he`s angry and he`s cold, That his soul is dying.
He`s a wealthy man`s dream, and he`s a working man`s dime. He has stood in both men`s shoes in his own damn time. The hard times of the thirties still linger in his mind When he is lonely. He`s out there in the cold, twenty years away from home. Does he dream about his old home in San Antone? He`s often watched the highways, but he`s a man of sixty-five. Where ain`t a soul in El Paso who would give an old drunk a ride.
Now, he traded in his draftsman`s pen for a fishing pole. And his mansion on the hill is an alley in El Paso. The anchors of the fifties still hold to broken dreams When his sorrows grow.
He`s out there in the cold, twenty years away from home. Does he dream about his old home in San Antone? He`s often watched the highways, but he`s a man of sixty-five. There ain`t a soul in El Paso who would give an old drunk a ride.
Now, they tell me that John Philip loved to gamble in his day. And he burned his bridges well when he walked away. He closed those corporate doors, left his children and his home . . . Now no one owns him.
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