Lorraine

Red as the blood from a body that was torn
White as the white sheets that white men had worn
Bluer than the river that flowed to the sea
As thin as a rope left tied to a tree
Red as the dirt where a shallow grave was made
White as the church where the killers all prayed
Bluer than the sky when the evening sun fell
As empty as the case of an old shotgun shell
I was dreaming of Lorraine when I turned my head in shame
I could not love you, my only true love is for my lovely pain
My tears dry faster than good luck in a gambling game
Red as the eyes of a woman who was crying
White as the shirt of a man who lay dying
Bluer than the steel of the bullet that flew
Hollow as the words I came crying to you
And I was dreaming of Lorraine when I turned my head in shame
I could not love you, my only true love is for my lovely pain
My tears dry faster than good luck in a gambling game
My tears dry faster than good luck in a gambling game