From: sfulton@ix.netcom.com (Steve Fulton)

Lyrics to a Dave Sharp Song, not yet recorded

Ghost Of Preacher Casey  (Inspired by Tobias Burke) (July 1992)
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Broken down drifters Hobos and junkies
Are dead on the ground
In the twilight, Hooker's Avenue
There's another gunfight going down

On the 6:00 soundbites, CNN news
About the latest on a hostage uptown
Between inside and out (....)
It's strange how it all comes around

The young, the old-fashioned
Have found a new voice, 
a new church, a new faith
And the ghost of Preacher Casey
Is calling from the grave

8-lane highways backed up for miles
If you (dared) , you could walk to the store
And in the darkened doorways, of the Lower East side
They say you can't get the stuff anymore

And the (walkman headphones), on the subways tonight
Are blocking out life, in the streets of New York
And the sound of the free world refugees
And the Dukes and the Helms of the Southern race wars

These are the days
Of political change
Well, out here it all looks the same
And the ghost of Preacher Casey
Is calling from the grave

Purple young widows, in cardboard boxes
Say (....) stop, don't pass me by
An TV Evangelsts, Bibles in hand
Cruise the neighborhood most every night

And new metal rockers, at the top of the dial
Tell you the whole world's doing fine
While nervous senators, on TV debates
Are voting for judges who aint fit to preside

There's no telling now
As they send a man down
What future they're trying to create
Now the ghost of Preacher Casey
Is calling from the grave

Welcome back here to the ghetto now
You find no good will in this place
For as the big wheel turns, the graffitti spreads
On the school-house walls to the White House gates

And 155 (hard rocker gays), the new vigelantees,
Torn out of their face
About the death-row statistics, (The U.S. should invade)
The border patrols, religion and AIDS

This much is sure, 
there is no mistake
As you sink to your knees and pray
Oh, the ghost of Preacher Casey
Is calling from the grave