First Few Desperate Hours

Bad luck comes in from

TampaBad luck comes in from

TampaOn the back of a truck

Doing ninety up the interstate

We have bad dreams the night he rolls in

We have bad dreams the night he rolls in

And we try to keep our sprits high

But they flag and they wane

When the truck pulls up out front

In the light spring rain

And they sag like withering flowers

Let the good times roll on

Through these first few desperate hours

Yeah the driver drops his cargo at the curb

The driver drops his cargo at the curb

And the sun peeks in

Like a killer through the curtain

And when cloven hoof prints turn up in the garden

Yeah when cloven hoof prints turn up in the garden

We keep up the good fight

We keep our spirits light

But they drop like flies

And there's a stomach-churning shift

In the way the land lies

And they lean like towers

On a hillside struggling to stand

Through these first few desperate hours

Yeah