Текст (слова) песни: Nanci Griffith - John Philip 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.
 

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