Lawrence, KS - Richard Shindell

Dirt roads and dryland farming

Might be the death of me

But I can’t leave this world behind

And my debts are not like prison

Where there’s hope of getting free

Oh, but I can’t leave this world behind

And I’ve been from here to Lawrence, Kansas

Trying to leave my state of mind

Trying to leave this awful sadness

But I can’t leave this world behind

South of Delia, there’s a patch

Out back by the willow trees

Oh, I can’t leave this world behind

It’s a fenced in piece of nothing

I hear voices on my knees

And I can’t leave this world behind

Some prophecies are self-fulfilling

But I’ve had to work for all of mine

Better times will come to me, God willing

'Cause I can’t leave this world behind

This world must be frightening

Everybody’s on the run

And I can’t leave this world behind

And my house is a wooden one

And it’s built on a wooden one

Seems I can’t leave this world behind

Preacher says that when the master calls us

He’s going to give us wings to fly

But my wings are made of hay and corn husks

So I can’t leave this world behind