Here’s the inside story …
Behind Let Your Light Shine Through.
ROBERT.V.SOBCZAK
Darkest hour
New Dawn
Words and Music by Bobby Angel
Cards were bad and in a hole, had a low pair and was about to fold, Didn’t expect to be down so far in the game with younger faces all around whispering the same, But against my better judgement stayed in, doubled down and called his bluff I was going for the win. Whatever happened before now, it’s a thing of the past. And I gotta admit it came as a complete surprise, unexpected.
It was a new dawn at last, a new dawn at last, a new dawn at last, we just had to stay up all night to see it.
The darkest hour was coming on strong, everything I did wrong piling on. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, I got a train coming at me on a collision course. No path ahead or way to retreat, I was a gonner in the tunnel of my final defeat Lights flashed in my eyes before I finally realized, not a train at all, just the best thing I ever saw.
It was a new dawn at last, a new dawn at last, a new dawn at last, we just had to stay up all night to see it.
Did my best but now I wonder why I even bothered to try. So I’ll be on my way, Just wasn’t in the cards at the end of the day, hit the trail out of town, hung my head with dread and stared at the ground. It was the darkest hour yet, the farthest from the sunset and then what came next was completely unexpected.
It was a new dawn at last, a new dawn at last, a new dawn at last, we just had to stay up all night to see it.
Barbarians knocking at the door Horsemen I’m counting four, Iagos whispering in my ear and the grim reaper is drawing near Vultures are perched on the roof, dear lord I don’t need any more proof. Fell to my knees to pray when I saw that golden ray and staggered to my feet in complete disbelief.
It was a new dawn at last, a new dawn at last, a new dawn at last, we just had to stay up all night to see it.
Jim Dill Road
Old Jim Dill
Words and Music by Bobby Angel
Old Jim Dill was a friend of mine, a hermit who live at the end of the line.
A man who didn’t have a lot to say. An man who died but never went away.
He kept his medals and he kept his gun, when returned at the end of World War I. But somehow things weren’t the same, so he left it all behind and he went away. Into the swamp to the end of the road, where he build him a cabin and called it home. ‘Coon and a gator he kept as a pet. Orneriest man you’ve ever met.
Old Jim Dill was a friend of mine, a hermit who lived at the end of the line.
Didn’t say much didn’t have a phone. Wonder if he ever felt alone.
Didn’t change at all and then it changed real fast, the new guard breaking away from the past. They chopped the trees and dug the earth, with not a care for what it was worth. Hated to see what he saw, but so goes the swamp under frontier law. Where fending yourself to stay safe, meant pointing a riffle in somebody’s face..
Old Jim Dill was a friend of mine, the hermit who lived at the end of the line. Guarded his home with a gun and a horse, ‘til the day he was killed by a snake on his porch. Venom punctured through his hide, finally killed the pain inside. Comforted by a nurse at his bed who held his hand to the very end.
Old Jim Dill is a friend of mine, think about him when I pass the sign.
Dead end then and a dead end to most, haunted by Jim Dill’s ghost.
