The woman takin care of me takes care to never let me be
You know I’d go home but she’ll just be standing there
In the porchlight with her rolling pin, she’ll cross her arms, say “Where you been?”
I’ll say “I can’t say,” and she’ll say, “No, you tell me where,”
I’ll say “I can’t say,” and she’ll just sigh and frown
And I’ll try to sleep just knowing she’s still standing there
Thinking how every time she trusts me I just go and let her down
The time it sure has slipped by fast, my curfew’s come and gone and passed
And my money all got spent before my tab was paid
With another night of streets to roam and anywhere to go but home
I’ll begin to wonder of the impact my impression’s made
I’ll begin to wonder if I been lost or found
I’ll begin to wonder just how far off the path I’ve strayed
And if it’s likely I could make it back if I just stopped and turned around
But now I’m frightened, more of myself than of the thunder or the lightening
More of the dawn than of the night that knows no brightening, lets me keep on hidin
I know my wrongs need rightening, and tho I know when it’s just bait well I’m still bitin
The more I wait the more I feel the noose a tightenin, and the stakes’re heightening
And tho I hardly feel the slack and know I won’t fall through the crack
I’m hardly gone before I’m back—backslidin
The preacher asks me if I pray, I tell him each and every day
He asks me, “How?”—as if he really didn’t know
I tell him first I close my eyes then I just kind of wait to be surprised
“And does that work?” he always wants to know
“And does what work?” I say for my response
“Are your prayers answered—does God say ‘yes’ and ‘no’?”
I tell him: “Father, God does whatever the hell he damn well wants.”
I try to keep the leash on tight, try to do what’s good and just and right
And it’s not too hard, so long as no one’s keepin score
But somehow midway down the line I find I’m cursed by my own design
And its no use explaining what I do things for
And its no use trying to use my words
Cause all I say is something someone’s said somewhere before
And comes out sounding just like nothing that I ain’t already heard
But now I’m frightened—more of my self than any madness I’m ignitin
More of my heart than of my love that needs requitenin, that feels your spitenin
I know my wrongs need rightenin, and tho I’m running low on fuel, well I’m still ridin
And tho I’ve broken every rule I was abidenin, seems no one’s mindin
And tho it used to be an act, I used to do it just for laughs
Seems now the whole charade is cracked and I’m just back—backslidin
My teacher taught me to be sick of science and arithmetic
“What good,” I asked, “is any of this stuff anyways?”
He warned me with a tired scold that “if you don’t do as you’re told
Well, you’ll find out for yourself one of these days—
And you’ll find out just how far you can get,”
And I found out right away because I cursed him to his face
And only lately have I thought of it as something I regret
The officer of my parole, he says I’m under his control
And that if I even laugh too loud, well, he’ll be at my side
I can feel his eyes upon my skin, I’d shut them out but they lock me in
They say, “You’re lucky,” but that ain’t quite been verified
They say, “You’re free again,” but that ain’t quite been proved
They had my story written out before I testified
And I was sentenced for I knew of what I’d even been accused
And now I’m frightened, more of myself than any foe that I’ve been fightin
More of the truth than of the lies that they’ve been writing, they’re self-indicting
But my wrongs need rightening, and tho I know the fuse is close well I’m still firin
The gate that leads to my destruction’s ever-widenin, slowly closing in
And tho I knew it for a fact when the cards were dealt the deck was stacked
I still went all in for a jack, and now I’m back—backslidin
Sam Steffen is a Pennsylvania-bred, Boise-based singer-songwriter whose songs are the torch-wood for a new generation of
folk music that has learned from the best stuff in the tradition and aims in spite of everything to keep the human spirit alive and kicking. A versatile musician and skilled finger-picker, Sam is at heart a story-teller, and a prolific one....more
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