BROCKZEMAN: MUSIC

I ain t as pretty as a picture
But I m as true as a preacher
And I swear to you on the rest of my life
I ll string up my rough and wild ways
High above from the rafter beams
With a rope so strong it won t fray under any knife

I pray the day will come
When my slate comes clean
And I drown my troubles in gasoline
And as I strike a match
And turn to walk away
I want you, to walk beside me

For now I ll take my bow and head off the stage
Knowing when I ve run my race
There will be rest for me when I cross the finish line
But before I do I hope I see
You pull the covers to your chin and smile at me
And I can sleep into the afternoon knowing that you re mine

And when the angels come
Calling for me
To walk down the hall
In sweet harmony
Before I m placed before god s jury
I want you, to be the last thing I see
And there ain t nothing
That can ever burn you worse
Then wanting something
That can t ever be yours
If I have a choice
Of what heaven might be
I want you, to be there with me.