I didn't hit me until I got to Caly and the rain turned to snow
wished I'd followed you thru the gates aboard that plane down to Mexico
I miss those nights at your kitchen table, after hitting all the bars
you played the sad eyed troubadour and there was sand in your guitar
it was a starry night when you had those crystal visions in the flames of the big beach fire
pain would become your companion and the gypsy your anodyne
you used to play all them seaside bars, up and down the Jersey shore
singing to the neon cowboys, playing the sad eyed troubadour
its 3am and your eyes are still glimmering, your crazy heart is still beating fast
scientists say in the police lights they're more concerned with what they call facts
acrossed books that lay scattered we trip into your bed
I know that together we won't wake up with the morning dread
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