John Prine, Randy and Me

San Antonio Texas, 9-11-01, mayhem in New York, my work was done.

I rented a Chevy, I had to share, with all the planes grounded, we were going nowhere

My new buddy was pensive as he squeezed himself inside

He offered an honest hand that had nothing to hide

We talked of the future, and the best of our past, nothing was sacred, colours nailed to the mast.

The Open Road, blue skies as far as you could see,

And for a thousand miles, just John Prine, Randy and me .

Priney was crooning a Tennessee waltz, something about a lost dog and a lover so false

Two strangers together, two brothers in arms, across the endless horizons, past those West Texas farms