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Roadside Cafe

from Jukebox Manifesto by Roger Hoover

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lyrics

my dear, my dear, listen close: i'm as lonesome as a poor boy can be. take my hand and show me where a poor boy can rest peacefully. will you wash my hands clean from the filth, dirt and grease and on my face, place a drop of oil; give me shoes to wear on my feet 'cause they're a bleeding from walking on the soil.

my friend, my friend, has turned me in. for what i've done no tongue can tell. i walked into a place of worship where it looked more like a rummage sale. my dear my dear they're a chasing me from town to town and coast to coast. there's other men much worse than me but i'm the man they want seen dead the most.

my love, my love its my best interest that you take run and hide. leave no trace that you've been in my place. take leave and sight by night sky and i'll meet you in four days by the river where we played, where i first ran my fingers through your hair. we'll put roots down and change our names around. no sheriff will ever find us there.

i can't, i can't my one true love 'cause i fear that if i gamble death this man's dreams will become unseen and they'll all forget the things i've said. my love, my love i'm selfish yes but there's no use for my tears to fall so soon, there's a child i'm a carrying in my womb.

i'll see fit that my friend who turned me in takes the hit and they'll not know the difference at all. because the face you see they've never seen and he's the one whose head they'll see fall.

my dear, my dear i'll meet you where the place we once laid our heads, side by side and both held hands before i got myself in this mess. in four days at the roadside cafe have my bacon and eggs ready for me. these troublesome times will pass us by and i'll rest in the arms fate had brought to me.

credits

from Jukebox Manifesto, released December 31, 2006

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Roger Hoover Ohio

Over the past 15 years, songwriter/guitarist Roger Hoover has been preaching the gospel of traditional American music to a growing group of devoted fans by keeping one foot in what Greil Marcus describes as the “old, weird America” and another foot firmly planted in the now.. ... more

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