Homemade Wine - Shawn Mullins

Sixty miles from El Paso

Feelin' lonesome as can be

Driving further from the heartache

That was slowly killing me

I left at 4 am last monday

Filled my tank at luther’s store

I might be checking' in come sunday

'cause I know by then she’ll walk the floor

She has it still inside her skull

That I am hers and she is mine

She’s dead on empty and I am full of

Broken dreams and homemade wine

There’s a kid who plays the squeesebox

On the border bridge on the juarez side

He dances to the beat

With no shoes on his feet

To the music that he makes as I drive by

And I felt just like the devil the whole night’s pull

But right this second I feel fine

My tank is dead on empty, but I am full

Of broken dreams and homemade wine

Now the gulf wind she sings to me a love song

I can hear her from the boxcar that I ride

Her voice is in my brain

Making music with this train

That will soon take me to the other side

And she might think that I’m coming back

To hold her close and stop her cryin'

But this freight train’s

Traveling down a southbound track

Full broken dreams and hommade wine

Just broken dreams and hommade wine

Broken dreams and hommade wine