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