James McMurtry

• I was writing away, engrossed, when the lyrics of this song reached out and grabbed me by the throat and shook me. Thus I am sharing. – SL

I was thinking ’bout you, crossing Southern Alberta

Canola fields on a July day

About the same chartreuse as that sixty-nine Bug

You used to drive around San Jose

Never knew where my old white Lincoln might take you

Party on wheels with suicide doors

Bring the kids and the dogs and your grandma too

We always had room for more

‘Til that white-knuckle ride back from Santa Cruz

Second-best surfer on the central coast

Had you wrapped up all the way back to Los Gatos

And I could’ve cut his throat

And it wasn’t like we were an item to start with

It had no basis in fact

But the whiskey could push me to sudden extremes

I don’t wanna think about that, I don’t wanna think about that

Take my hand, Marie

Take a death grip on some part of me

Keep me from drifting far out to sea

Or I’ll be lost out there

We all drifted away with the days getting shorter

Seeking our place in the greater scheme

Kids and careers and a vague sense of order

Busting apart at the seams

I heard you switched coasts, moved in with your sister

I doubt you’d have called it familial bliss

We met up in Brooklyn before it went hipster

You carried your keys in your fist

In a way back corner of a cross-town bus

We were hiding out under my hat

Cashing in on a thirty-year crush

You can’t be young and do that

You can’t be young and do that

Take my hand, Marie

Take a death grip on some part of me

Keep me from drifting far out to sea

Or I’ll be lost out there

Or I’ll be lost out there

I was thinking ’bout you crossing Southern Alberta

Canola fields at harvest time

Looked like tumbleweeds all raked up into rows

Brown rusty contour lines

And there’s not much moving on the romance radar

Not that I’m craving it all that much

But I still need to feel every once in a while

The warmth of a smile and a touch

And in a way back corner of a cross-town bus

We were hiding out under my hat

Cashing in on a thirty-year crush

You can’t be young and do that

You can’t be young and do that

You can’t be young and do that

You can’t be young and do that

Take my hand, Marie

Take a death grip on some part of me

Keep me from drifting far out to sea

Or I’ll be lost out there

I’ll be lost out there

I’ll be lost out there

Lyrics © BMG Rights Management

James McMurtry