Robert Earl Keen, Jr. (born January 11, 1956 in Houston, Texas) is an American singer-songwriter. Growing up, Keen was interested in music, sports, movies and writing. He attended Texas A&M University, enrolling in the school of journalism. Disappointed in the College Station, Texas music scene, he began playing guitar and learned to read and write music, basing his style on folk, country, blues and roots rock. In 1977 he rented a house from landlord Jack Boyett, where his neighbor was a then-unknown Lyle Lovett.
Quatro anos de trabalho duro!Neste mês de maio fizemos quatro anos no ar. Continuamos trabalhando na divulgação deste maravilhoso instrumento, obrigado por participar da nossa história!
#----------------------------------PLEASE NOTE---------------------------------# #This file is the author's own work and represents their interpretation of the # #song. You may only use this file for private study, scholarship, or research. # #------------------------------------------------------------------------------## From: [email protected]
Tom Ames Prayer by Steve Earle
G Everyone in Nacodoches GD Knew Tom Ames would come to a bad end Em 'Cause the sheriff caught him CGDG Stealin' chickens and such by the time he was ten
One day his Daddy took a ten dollar bill And tucked it in his hand He said I know you're headed for trouble son Your Momma wouldn't understand
So he took his Dad's money and his brother's old bay He left without a word of thanks He fell in with this crowd in some border town And he took to robbing banks
Outside the law his luck a- run out fast A few years came and went 'Til he's trapped in an alley in Abilene With all but four shells spent
And he realized prayin' was the only thing That he hadn't ever tried Well he wasn't sure he quite knew how But he looked up to the sky
He said you don't owe me nothin' and as far as I know Lord I don't owe nothin' to you I ain't askin' for a miricle Lord Just a little bit of luck will do
You know I ain't never prayed before 'Cause it always seemed to me That prayin's the same as beggin' Lord I don't take no charity
but right now Lord with my back to the wall I can't help but recall How they nearly hung me for stealin' a horse In Fort Smith, Arkansas
Judge Parker said guilty and the gavel came down Just like a cannon shot I went away quietly I began to file a plot
They sent the preacher down to my cell He said the Lord's your only hope He's the only friend you're gonna have son When you hit the end of Parker's rope
And I guess he could have kept preachin' till Christmas but he turned his back on me I put a homemade blade to that golden throat Asked the deputy for the key
It ain't the first trouble I've seen before As you already know I've had some help from you Lord and the Devil himself's been strictly touch and go
Yeah but who in the hell am I talkin' to There ain't no one here but me So he cocked both his pistols and he spit in the dirt And he walked out into that street