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Six

Ev’ry night was a gamble
She never knew what she’d get
Cos she paid the cost, each time he lost
At Milwaukee roulette
It was the sting of his knuckles
Or the stink of his kiss
Now and again, it was both of them
When he drank a whole six

And six was the number
Short of lucky seven
Six was the number
Below the grace of heaven

Her skin bore haunted rainbows
Of yellows, blacks and blues
But fear would fade, like a lighter shade
Meant a healing bruise
He’d bragged his old revolver
Packed a plow mule’s kick
That night she knew, he died with two
But she still fired all six

And six was the number
Short of lucky seven
Six was the number
Below the grace of heaven
Look closely on the road to hell
Cos the devil’s in the details

She could’ve laid him in fire
Let the four winds be his urn
But bein’ down, in the cold, cold ground
Was a slower burn
She knows mem’ries and shadow
Are midnight’s oldest tricks
So the howlin’ wind, just can’t be him
Cos he’s down a deep six

And six was the number
Short of lucky seven
Six was the number
Below the grace of heaven
The road to hell is bricked
With another six
Six
Six….


©2006 Greg Cox/Robert George