I’m a dress rehearsal stranger
Without a fixing for the road.
I’ve been picking up the faggots
That get me kicked out of the bars.
Did you walk away a stranger
Cause you were too caught up in gold?
Or was the ever piercing sidewalk
Grabbin’ tight your leathered soles.
Melting through my summer windscreen
Before the widows shake their brooms.
We were wrestling with officers
Gettin’ some fiction on their tongues.
Laughing without smiling
It’s been a mighty cold balloon.
I haven’t forgotten promises
With cheap hotel hookers
But the minister I never knew
Said, “Man, it’s not right timing after all.”
For there was one forgotten apple
That lay rotting on the ground
Which everybody avoided
Conscious fingers up their nose.
Butler’s on my side
To tell me all he had to say
Which was spoken very dryly
As he fit the classic part.
So I knew at that very moment
All their was ever said to know,
Which took me down to Georgia
To lay down my old guitar.