You found me in the back-house trying to get clean.
With my face hung down and the water pouring over me.
Under cinder-blocks, and corn stalks,
my shoulders weigh down.
Heavy as sin in the strong wind south.
You said we'd move back east if the well ran dry.
Make a new home in New England on the state line.
Under pine trees, and rubber leaves,
I thought we'd never run out.
Heavy as sin in the strong wind south.
Heavy as sin in the strong wind south.
With a baby on the way, and check in the mail,
I count the hours and the bottles on the rail.
I make time freeze, but no one sees
I'm too old for this now.
Heavy as sin in the strong wind south.
The rain clouds are coming down to wash this famine away.
And the good book says that I'm obliged to stay.
As the storm rolls through, we are stuck in the mouth.
Heavy as sin in the strong wind south.