I had a Lover I thought she was mine. Thought I'd always be her valentine. You can't depend on anything, really . There's no promises, there's no point. There's no good, there's no bad in this little joint. No beer sold after 12 o'clock. Mr. Johnson sings over in a corner by the Bar. Sold his soul to play guitar. House rules, no exceptions. No bad language, no gambling, no fighting. Sorry, no credit , don't ask.
- Words by Lucinda Williams
(Bovina, Mississippi / Earl's Art Gallery & Bar-B-Que joint by H.C. Porter)