Homemade Wine

Homemade Wine
Shawn Mullins

Sixty miles from El Paso
Feelin lonesome as can be
Driving further from the heartache
That was slowly killing me
I left at 4 AM last Monday
Filled my tank at Luthers store
I might be checkin in come Sunday
Cause I know by then shell walk the floor
She has it still inside her skull
That I am hers and she is mine
Shes dead on empty and I am full
Of broken dreams and homemade wine
Theres a kid who plays the squeezebox
On the border bridge on the Juarez side
He dances to the beat
With no shoes on his feet
To the music that he makes as I drive by
And I felt just like the devil the whole nights pull
But right this second I feel fine
My tank is dead on empty, but I am full
Of broken dreams and homemade wine
Now the gulf wind she sings to me a love song
I can hear her from the boxcar that I ride
Her voice is in my brain
Making music with this train
That will soon take me to the other side
And she might think that Im coming back
To hold her close and stop her cryin
But this freight trains
Traveling down a southbound track
Full of broken dreams and homemade wine
Just broken dreams and homemade wine
Broken dreams and homemade wine
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