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I'm down to one key in my pocket* |
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The bus station locker downtown, |
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The soles of my shoes , |
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Are as thin as my wallet, |
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I been sleeping close to the ground |
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But buried up here in my memory, |
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Is a head full of living room hits, |
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I wrote about |
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Thelma when we were an item, |
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And I was worth more than two bits, |
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So I'll sing you a song about |
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Thelma, If you have a quarter to spare, |
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If you had the time or a bottle of wine, |
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That you'd be willing to share, |
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And later |
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I'll show you a picture, |
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Of Thelma when she's in her prime, |
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If you want to see mr |
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I've got the key, |
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And the bus station locker take dimes, |
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I had me a band in the 60's, "ladies Texas outlaw," |
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Thelma could sing so we moved nashville, |
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And in '68, she got hot, |
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A high flyin' record producer, |
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Told Thelma he'd make her a star, |
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He wined her and dined her and stole her away |
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And left me with my old guitar, |
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She died last year on my birthday, |
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The day that |
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I turned 65, |
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Most have forgotten including her fans, |
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But I'm keeping her memory alive, 'cuz |
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I've got this key in my pocket, |
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I've had since '72, |
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I've built her a shrine in that locker downtown, |
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And I think she'd be pleased if she knew |
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So I'll sing you a song about |
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Thelma, If you have a quarter to spare, |
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If you have the time or a bottle of wine, |
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And you'd be willing to share, |
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Later I'll show you a picture, |
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Of Thelma when she's in her prime, |
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If you wanna see mr |
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I've got the key, |
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And the bus station locker takes dimes |
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If you wanna see mr |
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I've got the key |
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And the bus station locker takes dimes |
