DESCRIPTION:
Album: Ray Gun Suitcase (1995)

Lyrics:
Somehow I must love the pain.
The hollow earth. On it the sound of rain.
Burn my home.
Burn my shoes.
Burn down the glorified Home of the Blues.

Wake up then. Don't be slow.
Drunken sailors are blockin up the main road.
They're up in arms. They're reelin' on their feet.
Or millin' round. They're marchin on the Home of the Blues.
Marchin' on the Home of the Blues.
Marchin' on the Home of the Blues.
Marchin' on the Home of the Blues.
Marchin' on the Home of the Blues.

Say my name low and sweet.
Then you'll go away. We'll never meet.
In awhile I'll be there too. In the rain.
Marchin' on the home of the blues.
Marchin' on the Home of the Blues.
Marchin' on the Home of the Blues.
Marchin' on the Home of the Blues.
Marchin on the Home of the...

Nobody can feel all the things that we feel.
And nobody knows how it is always leavin' and never to go.
Marchin' on the Home of the Blues.
Marchin' on the Home of the Blues.
Marchin' on the Home of the Blues.
Marchin' on the Home of the Blues.
Marchin' on the Home of the Blues.
Marchin' on the Home of the Blues.
Marchin' on the Home of the Blues.
Marchin' on the Home of the...