No Luck at All

Twenty empty bottles of wild Wild Irish Rose

Oatmeal in the dresser drawer, sprinkled through his clothes

The neighbors came to offer grace and took away the bed

The outline of our father traced in dust where he lay dead

Left Indiana by the moon, made Jackson in the day

Called our father's landlord and the sheriff on the way

Henry'd never eaten at a Waffle House before

We had to cross the county line to find a liquor store

And underneath this Texas sky

We wait for it to fall

There's no luck in these stars at all

Been forty years, since he ran for Texas with us kids

Henry was a bump then, showing what his momma did

He don't recall that daily oatmeal breakfast on the plate

Bubbled in an iron pot, enough to feed all eight

And underneath this Texas sky

We wait for it to fall

There's no luck in these stars at all

Me and Henry had to go and get our father's guns

The deputy was counting out the ammo one by one

He said, "A pistol bullet's missing," and he looked me in the eye

"I'd be remiss if I don't ask – how did your daddy die?"

Henry said, "I'm tired; let's get out of Jackson fast."

Found a secondhand store that bought everything for cash

We paid for his cremation with the money from his tools

Henry kept a welder's cap, and I a string of jewels

And underneath this Texas sky

We wait for it to fall

There's no luck in these stars at all

There's no luck in these stars at all