Turnpike Troubadours – The Funeral (Guitar)

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Well now stage right enter Jimmy, just a counterfeit James Dean

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with a pocket full of delta blues and cheap amphetamine

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Her feet up on the dashboard like a burned out Betty Paige

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Aw she might have been pretty if she was half her age

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But together they were something, just closing down the bars

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Headed down from Okie City in a slightly stolen car

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The folks were decent people, they didn't like their kind

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When the car pulled in the driveway the were staring through the blinds

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The preacher in the kitchen, he's eatin' apple pie

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Oh momma's in the bedroom she couldn't help but cry

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Oh and daddy looked so natural like he'd just gone to sleep

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And the preacher looked through Jimmy and prayed his soul to keep

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It's coming home, coming home

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Ain't nothing like a family to make you feel so damned alone

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You should've brought flowers, should've got daddy's gun

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Aint nobody waiting on the prodigal son

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Well they pulled out into traffic, moved in behind the hearse

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And that awful empty feeling, well it went from bad to worse

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The preacher read some scripture and they put him in the ground

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Aw then everybody loaded up and headed back to town

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But Jimmy got his whiskey out once everyone was gone

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He felt he should've said something staring down at the stone

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It's coming home, coming home

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Ain't nothing like a family to make you feel so damned alone

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You should've brought flowers, should've got daddy's gun

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Ain't nobody waiting on the prodigal son

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Well the menfolk folded tables and the ladies cleaned the plates

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And the cousins asked about the car locked behind the gate

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Jimmy knew his daddy's .38, was in that trunk buried deep

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And it would find its rightful owner once his momma was asleep.

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And Jimmy looked at momma, momma just looked down

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She said why's it take a funeral, boy to bring you back to town