Jeffrey Foucault - East of the Sunrise Lyrics

Soft-shoeing on the trapdoor
At the bottom of her soul
Rolling down the golden highway
With no money for the toll
She's running rough but still running
It's enough to keep the sun inside
A busted rearview going down

Now east of the sunrise
Black as the crow flies
The radio a soft and lonely sound

She'll sing herself to sleep
She'll sing so she won't weep
Tomorrow she'll be gone

Is she twenty-five or forty
I don't think that you could say
She's standing at the window
Smoking cigarettes all day
Tipping ashes in a teacup
Wondering how it got so f*cked up
And if her luck might run the other way

But east of the sunrise
Black as the crow flies
The radio's got nothing much to say

There's a little boy sleeping in a motel bed
There's a wedding ring shining in the road
You can't take back what you never said
Or pay down a debt you never owed

Now East of the sunrise
Black as the crow flies
She reaches out to turn off the radio"