The Messenger

I am wearing old boots with high cuban heels
Our souls they are worn and we stand here by grace
My trousers are torn and my jacket is borrowed
I am wearing my time behind the eyes in my face

I am not looking for loose diamonds
Or pretty girls with crosses around their necks
I don't want for roses or water, I am not looking for God
I am not looking for sex

I've worn out my welcome in certain small circles
In Spanish bordellos and confederate states
But there is an angel in leathers and kindness
Who whispers my name beyond heaven's gate

All the true believers are out on the road tonight
No matter what happens, you know they'll be okay
And to the rock and roll gypsies may the last song you sing
Be by Townes Van Zandt and down in old Santa Fe

Now I have a mission and a small code of honor
To stand and deliver by whatever measures
And the message I cgive is from this old poet Rilke
He said "Our fears are like dragons
guarding our most precious treasures?



Credits
Writer(s): Ray Wylie Hubbard
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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