My Old Man

My old man, I can still see his hands, holding on to the reins of his horse from the racetrack stands

They did him in, like they all do us in, in the end there'll be no one left but crooks and a bunch of thieves

My old man

My old man, drops of sweat in the sand, just a steeplechase jockey from Kentucky in another race

Our heroes fall, don't they all? But Gilford and my dad, they didn't do nothing wrong at all

My old man

The shot ringed clear, in the cool spring air, there was death and blood and cries of anguish flying all around the track

Life will break us, it will spit in your face, I'll be damned if I didn't see it happen with my own eyes

My old man, my old man, my old man

My old man