Beggars can’t be choosers
with a chance to survive
my hands are tied because it doesn’t matter
somebody gives you arsenic
so you won’t be lonely
fire in my brain is calling it quits

MY PICTURE’S IN THE PAPERS
BUT YOU CAN’T SEE MY FACE
DOWN IN MEXICO
WE THREW THE WEDDING DICE
WHEN THEY FOUND OUT
WE COULDN’T GET OUT
DOWN IN MEXICO
WE THREW THE WEDDING DICE

They buried her embraces in a white coffin
gave me two bits of lead
a jealous father’s souvenir
that’s when I took a gun into the liquor store
the cops say to this day
“It’s no heartwarming story”

REPEAT CHORUS

In the morning her ghost came to the door
magnolias on the steps were all that I could see
in the morning her host came to the door
a cupid’s heart of blood was on the screen

REPEAT CHORUS

She kissed me and I saw them waiting in the yard
the cops say to this day
“It’s no heartwarming story”
the story of the hand, the hand of glory
beggars can’t be choosers
with a choice to survive

REPEAT CHORUS

copyright,  © 1989, 2007 Chris Desjardins pka Chris D.

composed circa 1982; originally published in DOUBLE SNAKE BOURBON  

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