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Songwriters: BON JOVI, JON |
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Across the border they turn |
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Water into wine |
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Some say it's the devil's blood |
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They're squeezing from the vine |
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Some say it's a saviour |
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In these hard and desperate times |
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For me it helps me to forget |
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That we're just born to die |
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I came here like so many did |
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To find the better life |
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To find my piece of easy street |
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To finally be alive |
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And I know nothing good comes easy |
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And all good things take some time |
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I made my bed I'll lie in it |
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To die in it's the crime |
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You can't help but prosper |
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Where the streets are paved with gold |
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They say the oil wells ran deeper here |
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Than anybody's known |
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I packed up on my wife and kid |
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And left them back at home |
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Now there's nothing in this paydirt |
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The ghosts are all I know |
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Now the oil's gone |
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The money's gone |
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And the jobs are gone |
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Still we're hangin' on |
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Down in dry county |
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They're swimming in the sand |
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Praying for some holy water |
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To wash the sins from off our hands |
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Here in dry county |
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The promise has run dry |
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Where nobody cries |
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And no one's getting out of here alive |
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In the blessed name of Jesus |
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I heard a preacher say |
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That we are God's children |
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And He'd be back someday |
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And I hoped that he knew |
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Something as he drank his cup of wine |
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I didn't have too good of a feeling |
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As I head out to the night |
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I cursed the sky to open |
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I begged the clouds for rain |
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I prayed to God for water |
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For this burning in my veins |
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It was like my soul's on fire |
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And I had to watch the flames |
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All my dreams went up in ashes |
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And my future blew away |
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Now the oil's gone |
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And the money's gone |
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And the jobs are gone |
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Still we're hangin' on |
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Down in dry county |
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They're swimming in the sand |
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Praying for some holy water |
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To wash the sins from off our hands |
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Here in dry county |
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The promise has run dry |
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Where nobody cries |
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And no one's getting out of here alive |
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Men spend their whole lives |
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Waiting praying for some big reward |
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But it seems sometimes |
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The payoff leaves you feeling |
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Like a dirty whore |
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If I could choose the way I'll die |
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Make it by the gun or knife |
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'Cause the other way there's too much pain |
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Night after night after night after night |
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Down in dry county |
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They're swimming in the sand |
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Praying for some holy water |
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To wash the sins from off our hands |
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Here in dry county |
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The promise has run dry |
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Where nobody cries |
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And no one's getting out of here alive |
