Hollis, Texas Blues

Goin' up to Jackson with a ten dollar bill,

Couldn't get no traction pushin' up that hill;

Sky full of rain clouds, roads full of mud,

Fish hooks and hand outs, a couple spots of blood.

Down Hollis, Texas, knock knock on the door,

Bullet Mike and Reckless settle up the score;

Holler down the cane breaks, holler down the skids,

Hear the sound the rain makes on a coffin lid.

Look out to Big Sandy, look out to Great Bend,

It's the blood of redemption -- we're fishers of men;

Look out through the damp air as far as you can see,

Not a thing out there belongs to you and me.