I guess that you must already be expecting us in San Fransisco but we're in westTexas instead.
We drove through the first night and spoke only a little after that first afternoon.

We stopped to stretch out in the warm and your sister insisted you hair would be short again, and I told her I didn't know.

The wind against us slowed us down so we checked out a gun show and a ghost town.
In a gas station window in the dust and the sun we were shaped like overlapping ghosts.
Just like overlapping ghosts.

I let the wheel give a little to the wind and the daylight was a nightmare.
I told her how you shined with what I mistook for shyness when I met you.
She listened as if she didn't already know.

I tolder her how I'd made up this new way of prayinf to be able to still say please Lord my needs before all the others and still have a little hope leftover for all the whores you know who can't come anymore.
She told me she didn't know how to tell when she was high or not anymore. It's perfect need and perfect completion.

The wind had picked up again.
And I'm still good at making new firends I guess.
So forgive her for your own sake and blame only me.
I've traded my blanket for a pillow.

And I'm still good at making new friends I guess as long as I don't have to keep them.