Greyhound

Lots of things in my life are serendipitous. The fact that I interviewed Flatbed Honeymoon last week -- a brilliant, shining Americana star amid a sea of pretentious fucks -- and they gave me their newest album on vinyl as a consolation prize is one in a long, long line of blessed coincidences. Because they gave me this song. I can't turn it off.

Hello Greyhound, my old faithful friend
take me somewhere a ways away
I've had all I could take of these
mean old city blues
I've worn right through these walkin' shoes

So come on, big momma,
get these wheels moving on down the line,
If we can just pass El Paso, I'll be doin' fine

I believe it's time for a change,
it's time for unknowns to unfold,
it's time to lay the cards on the table.
it's time to live if I'm able

I feel like an old lounge singer who's got
one last song to sing
better make it count, boy
better make it ring.

they got some worn out lookin' folks
strewn out across the aisles
it smells like desperation
for miles and miles and miles.

It's time to live if I'm able.