While we seek mirth and beauty and music light and gay,
There are frail forms fainting at the door.
Though their voices are silent, their pleading looks will say,
'Oh hard times, come again no more'.
He was an Odessa boy with a daddy in the money
he played for Mojo back in the boom.
Drove a Corvette, took what he wanted from people,
they learned to give him lots of room.
Well he never learned to work
but that never really mattered,
because the dark crude flowed
and the wild oats scattered.
The dark crude, it flowed;
He fought, he flattered.
And he got what he wanted;
It was the only thing that mattered.
Well life was easy and the big jacks pumped
pouring cash from the Permian field.
There were cabinets full of high-grade scotch,
a garage, full of high-speed steel.
Well he never learned to work
but that never really mattered,
because the dark crude flowed
and the wild oats scattered.
The dark crude, it flowed;
He fought, he flattered.
And he got what he wanted;
It was the only thing that mattered.
Then he killed a girl when he rolled the Corvette;
Daddy's money made the lawyers go away.
His mother bought vodka with all that cash,
she kind of knew, yeah she kind of knew.
Well he's an old man now
lives on his dead daddy's place.
Never took a wife,
gonna die without a trace.
You see he loved the girl who was pinned in the 'vette;
He talks to her everyday.
Her face was blood and diamonds,
and he remembers, her that way.
There's a pale, droopy maiden who toiled her life away
With a worn heart, whose better days are over.
Though her voice it would be merry, it's sighing all the day,
'Oh hard times, come again no more'.
