Red as the blood from a body that was torn White as the white sheets that white men had worn Bluer than the river that flowed to the sea As thin as a rope left tied to a tree Red as the dirt where a shallow grave was made White as the church where the killers all prayed Bluer than the sky when the evening sun fell As empty as the case of an old shotgun shell I was dreaming of Lorraine when I turned my head in shame I could not love you, my only true love is for my lovely pain my tears dry faster than good luck in a gambling game Red as the eyes of a woman who was crying White as the shirt of a man who lay dying Bluer than the steel of the bullet that flew Hollow as the words I came crying to you And I was dreaming of Lorraine when I turned my head in shame I could not love you, my only true love is for my lovely pain My tears dry faster than good luck in a gambling game My tears dry faster than good luck in a gambling game