Sunday morning tires squealin out the church parking lot
After a gun totin' deacon fired a few dozen shots
He fled alone cause his wife
Tore out the back door in shock
They found her walking down the highway with a bouquet of cotton
No more
Long war
Her mind’s done gone
Friday evening angry voice of his unmerciful god
Was runnin' hot through his head, invoked the blood of the lord
She told the children to hide
They knew their momma could not
She’d soon be walkin down the highway with a bouquet of cotton
No more
Long war
Her mind’s done gone
Tuesday afternoon drivin in the sun blazin hot
Preacher saw a lady wandrin’ - dirty, tattered and fraught
He asked for her name
She said she forgot
She’d been walkin’ down the highway with a bouquet of cotton
No more
Long war
Her mind’s done gone
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