• Song:

    Comin' Down

  • Artist:

    Bleu Edmondson

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Capo 2 
F#m                           A                    E 
That old Mexican man picks up cans in the roadside dust 
     G                                           A             E 
They say that things turned bad for him when the oil booms went bust 
He had a life down here in Houston, a good job and a lovin' wife 
       G                                A               D  
But he killed a man in Corpus, now he's serving out his life 

  F#m                       A                E 
A shell of a Mexican man, a number is all he is 
G                                             A              E   
A proud pure blood slowly drained away by the life a convict lives 
    F#m                         A                  E 
And life without parole when he told 'em what he'd done 
G                                           A                         D    
It's a damn shame what a man can do with an angry soul and an old war gun 

A   E                  F#m 
Oh, oh can you hear it comin' 
D   E                  F#m 
Oh, oh can you hear it now 
A   E                  F#m 
Oh, oh can you hear it comin' 
D   E              F#m 
Oh, oh it's comin? down  
After the rigs he got a job at the old A&P 
Sacking up bags for rich old men just to save his family 
In his broken tongue he'd cuss 'em for the things they never knew 
And in his mind he knew the cost of the life he would have to choose 
So one hot summer night, with no gulf breeze at all 
He kissed his little girls goodnight, told his wife she'd get a call 
He walked out of the house that night, through bars no one could see 
Skyline blurred by the old man's tears, he's gonna set his family free 
His kids are all grown up now, they moved away 
His wife met some kind of artist man, now she's off in Santa Fe 
And I tried to talk to him once, it's hell in here without a friend 
But he just turned his back on me and started praying on the beads again 
So someday soon, I guess he'll die in here, don't you know that's the way it goes 
Cool gray eyes, a broken down face that nobody really knows 
But every week he gets a letter and every week tears, they fall like rain 
Cause every week there's a postmark and every week it's Santa Fe 
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