(Guy Clark)Let him roll, Lord, let him roarHe always said that heaven was just a Dallas whore.He was a wino tried and trueDone about everything there is to doHe worked on freighters he worked in barsHe worked on farms and he worked on cars.It was white port that put that look in his eyeThat grown men get when they need to cryHe sat down on the curb to restAnd his head just fell down on his chest.He said every single day it getsA little bit harder to handle and yetAnd he lost the thread and his mind got clutteredAnd the words just rolled off down in the gutter.He was elevator man in a cheap hotelIn exchange for the rent on a one room cellHe's old in years beyond his timeThanks to the world and the white Port wine.So he says son he always called me sonHe said life for you has just begunAnd he told me a story that I'd heard beforeHow he fell in love with a Dallas whore.He could cut through the years to the very nightWhen it ended in a whore house fightAnd she turned his last proposal downIn favor of being a girl about town.Now it's been seventeen years right in lineAnd he ain't been straight none of the timeToo many days of fightin' the weatherAnd too many nights of not being together.So he died.--- Instrumental ---When they went through his personal affectsIn among the stubs from the welfare checksWas a crumblin' picture of a girl in a doorAn address in Dallas and nothin' more.The welfare people provided the priestA couple from the mission down the streetSang Amazing Grace and no one criedCept some lady in black way off to the side.We all left and she was standing thereBlack veil coverin' her silver hairAnd 'ol ene-eyed John said her name was AliceAnd she used to be a whore in Dallas.Let him roar, Lord, let him rollBet he's gone to Dallas rest his soulLord let him roll Lord let him roarHe always said that heaven was just a Dallas whore.Let him roar, Lord, let him rollI bet he's gone to Dallas rest his soul...