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He was there when I started, in Knoxville, Tennessee |
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Opening for Patty Loveless, November of '93 |
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Full of friends, mom, and uncle Butch |
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And the crowd was really small |
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He'd say I was a scared kid, if this bus could talk |
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Some nights we'd dance with the devil |
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Some nights we'd pray to the Lord |
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Between vibrant passes and margarita glasses |
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He was never really bored |
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We were starry eyed dreamers, bouncing off the wall |
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And all the stories he could tell, if this bus could talk |
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He'd seen pool halls in Texas |
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And every corndog county fair |
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Girls that we'd make cry, some crowds that didn't care |
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When Bobby rolled us down in 'Bama |
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He kept rocking through it all |
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All the stories he could tell |
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If this bus could talk |
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Late night conversations, full of drunk philosophy |
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On politics and religion, football and family |
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The lovers that we missed, and the lovers that we lost |
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All the secrets he could share, if this bus could talk |
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He'd seen Virginia Beach, caught in a hurricane |
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Heroes I wish I never met but he ain't naming names |
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We learned the code of the road at The Grizzly Rose |
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Then we had a ball |
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All the stories he could tell |
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If this bus could talk |
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Many years of summers, and I hope it never ends |
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Been down so many highways, full of twists and turns and bends |
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We caught lightning in a bottle, somehow we survived it all |
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All the stories he could tell, if this bus could talk |
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As I leave the stage, still high from your applause |
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He'd tell you that I love you |
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If this bus could talk |
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If this bus could talk |
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If this bus could talk |
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If this bus could talk |
