The Promised Land

It's time for something different. Yes...time to publish some song lyrics...I'm afraid you'll have to imagine the world-class music that goes with them!

The Promised Land


He arrived in San Francisco, back 1849
Came round the Cape Horn searching for his fortune
Followed all the wagon trains, running from his life
Climbing over mountain trails to where there was a fortune

He’s a gold prospector
Burning in the mid-day sun
His water bottle empty
His nuggets all hard-won
Digging in the dirt
With bloodied, blistered hands
A Frisco 49er
Searching for his promised land.

Left his golden dreams, buried in a riverbed
Went back to San Francisco, still without his fortune
Found himself out on the street, reduced to eating bread
Came across a pack of cards. Time to win his fortune.

He’s a desperate gambling man
Choking in the blackjack hall
Down to his last dollar
Waiting for the cards to fall
Through weary, bloodshot eyes
He’s bluffing with an empty hand
Drinking with the local whores
And dreaming of his promised land

Sleeping in an empty doorway, he’s a man who’s all alone
Sheltering from a vengeful wind, ten thousand miles from home
A shadow of his former self, he’s pawned everything he owned
Now huddled tight against the cold, dreaming of a golden road.

He’s a man without a home
A nomad with a wandering soul
Searching for his life’s big break
Waiting for Fate’s dice to roll
Haunting all the streets and docks
His dreams now turned to sand
Believing each new ship that comes
Will take him to his promised land.