John Philip Griffith Lyrics

Song	John Philip Griffith
Artist	Nanci Griffith
Album	There's a Light Beyond These Woods
Download	Image LRC TXT

	作词 : Griffith
	He was a simple man only to a stranger.
	And the kindness in his eyes
	I still remember.
	Now that he is old,
	they say he's angry and he's cold,
	That his soul is dying.
	He's a wealthy man's dream,
	and he's a working man's dime.
	He has stood in both men's shoes
	in his own damn time.
	The hard times of the thirties
	still linger in his mind
	When he is lonely.
	He's out there in the cold,
	twenty years away from home.
	Does he dream about his old home
	in San Antone?
	He's often watched the highways,
	but he's a man of sixty-five.
	Where ain't a soul in El Paso
	who would give an old drunk a ride.
	Now, he traded in his draftsman's pen
	for a fishing pole.
	And his mansion on the hill
	is an alley in El Paso.
	The anchors of the fifties
	still hold to broken dreams
	When his sorrows grow.
	He's out there in the cold,
	twenty years away from home.
	Does he dream about his old home
	in San Antone?
	He's often watched the highways,
	but he's a man of sixty-five.
	There ain't a soul in El Paso
	who would give an old drunk a ride.
	Now, they tell me that John Philip
	loved to gamble in his day.
	And he burned his bridges well
	when he walked away.
	He closed those corporate doors,
	left his children and his home . . .
	Now no one owns him.

	zuo ci : Griffith
	He was a simple man only to a stranger.
	And the kindness in his eyes
	I still remember.
	Now that he is old,
	they say he' s angry and he' s cold,
	That his soul is dying.
	He' s a wealthy man' s dream,
	and he' s a working man' s dime.
	He has stood in both men' s shoes
	in his own damn time.
	The hard times of the thirties
	still linger in his mind
	When he is lonely.
	He' s out there in the cold,
	twenty years away from home.
	Does he dream about his old home
	in San Antone?
	He' s often watched the highways,
	but he' s a man of sixtyfive.
	Where ain' t a soul in El Paso
	who would give an old drunk a ride.
	Now, he traded in his draftsman' s pen
	for a fishing pole.
	And his mansion on the hill
	is an alley in El Paso.
	The anchors of the fifties
	still hold to broken dreams
	When his sorrows grow.
	He' s out there in the cold,
	twenty years away from home.
	Does he dream about his old home
	in San Antone?
	He' s often watched the highways,
	but he' s a man of sixtyfive.
	There ain' t a soul in El Paso
	who would give an old drunk a ride.
	Now, they tell me that John Philip
	loved to gamble in his day.
	And he burned his bridges well
	when he walked away.
	He closed those corporate doors,
	left his children and his home . . .
	Now no one owns him.

	zuò cí : Griffith
	He was a simple man only to a stranger.
	And the kindness in his eyes
	I still remember.
	Now that he is old,
	they say he' s angry and he' s cold,
	That his soul is dying.
	He' s a wealthy man' s dream,
	and he' s a working man' s dime.
	He has stood in both men' s shoes
	in his own damn time.
	The hard times of the thirties
	still linger in his mind
	When he is lonely.
	He' s out there in the cold,
	twenty years away from home.
	Does he dream about his old home
	in San Antone?
	He' s often watched the highways,
	but he' s a man of sixtyfive.
	Where ain' t a soul in El Paso
	who would give an old drunk a ride.
	Now, he traded in his draftsman' s pen
	for a fishing pole.
	And his mansion on the hill
	is an alley in El Paso.
	The anchors of the fifties
	still hold to broken dreams
	When his sorrows grow.
	He' s out there in the cold,
	twenty years away from home.
	Does he dream about his old home
	in San Antone?
	He' s often watched the highways,
	but he' s a man of sixtyfive.
	There ain' t a soul in El Paso
	who would give an old drunk a ride.
	Now, they tell me that John Philip
	loved to gamble in his day.
	And he burned his bridges well
	when he walked away.
	He closed those corporate doors,
	left his children and his home . . .
	Now no one owns him.

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