There is a house in New Orleans They call the Rising Sun It’s been the fall of many souls And Lord, I’m one of them My mother was a tailor She sewed my coat with pride My father was a rambling man With whiskey on his side I left my home too early With fire behind my eyes I found that house and stepped inside And learned how silence cries Smoke trails on the southern wind Dust upon my boots I gave my soul to New Orleans And left with no excuse The cards were cold and crooked The whiskey burned like sin I lost my name beneath the floor And let the dark begin So tell my younger brother Don’t chase what feels like gold That house will dress you up in shame And leave you in the cold Smoke trails on the southern wind The road won’t turn around I’m heading north with empty hands And six feet underground
