Most books, like their authors, are born to die; of only a few books can it be said that death hath no dominion over them; they live, and their influence lives forever.
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Hell and Highwater
Well I was standing at the junction
Trying to kill some time
She was sitting high on a bar stool
Drinking some cheap red wine
I asked how she was doing
She said she was doing fine
When she asked me for a cigarette
I recognised the signs
Well I knew just what she wanted
And I swear it wasn't love
She just needed something to keep her head above
Hell and highwater
Try and make it through the night
Hell and highwater
Sometimes it's hard to keep your head above
Hell and highwater
Sometimes it don't feel right
Hell and highwater
Well the girl's just trying to keep her head above
Hell and highwater
A rainy night at a station
In an old half way hotel
The kind of place to make you feel
One stop away from hell
Where the angels meet the drifters
Where many strong men fell
I asked her if she had a name
She said call me Jezebel
Well I knew just what she wanted
And I swear it wasn't love
She just needed something to keep her head above
Hell and highwater
Try and make it through the night
Hell and highwater
Sometimes it's hard to keep your head above
Hell and highwater
Sometimes it don't feel right
Hell and highwater
Well the girl's just trying to keep her head above
Hell and highwater
I picked up my suitcase
I was heading for the door
When a voice behind with a scarlet smile
Said honey you'll be back for more
I knew just what she wanted
And I swear it wasn't love
She just needed something to keep her head above
Hell and highwater
Try and make it through the night
Hell and highwater
Sometimes it's hard to keep your head above
Hell and highwater
Sometimes it don't feel right
Hell and highwater
Well the girl's just trying to keep her head above
Hell and highwater