Sun came up it was another day, And the sun went down you were blown away. Why'd you let go of your guitar? Why'd you ever let it go that far? Drunke… - Lucinda Williams

Open up the doors of heaven and let me in.
I think I'm finally tired of living, let me in.
I'm going to walk into glory,
Tell everyone my story.
So open up the doors of heaven and let me in.<p>I've tried to live my life the righteous way.
I tried to do my best from day to day.
But no matter how hard I try,
Seems all I do is cry.
So open up the doors of heaven and let me in.

I grew up being aware that I was Southern, and that being a very important thing for me. And being drawn to short story writers, like Flannery O’Connor and Eudora Welty—the surroundings in their stories were so familiar to me, the whole Southern Gothic thing. That world only existed in that part of the country. It’s going to inform the personality of the songs. In a lot of my songwriting, I mention towns and places. It’s a culturally traditional thing in the South to tell stories.

Not a day goes by I don't think about you;
You left your mark on me, it's permanent, a tattoo.
Pierce the skin and the blood runs through,
Oh my baby.