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Wednesday, June 08, 2011

I Write Fiction Now, Because I Want To Tell The Truth



It's a busted old town on the plains of West Texas.
The drugstore's closed down, and the river runs dry.
The semis roll through like stainless steel stallions
Goin' hard, goin' fast, goin' wild
Rollin' hard, rollin' fast, rollin' by.

And the mission still stands at the edge of the plateau.
A stone marks the graves where the old cowboys lie.
Asleep in a time, in a town just a youngster
Goin' hard, goin' fast, goin' wild
Rollin' hard, rollin' fast, rollin' by.

And the drive-in don't play no Friday night pictures.
No big silver screen to light up the sky.
Gone are the days of post-war-time lovers
Goin' hard, goin' fast, goin' wild
Rollin' hard, rollin' fast, rollin' by.

And me -- I stand here at the last fillin' station
Where the wind moans a dirge to the coyote's cry.
I jump in my car; I'm back out on the highway
Goin' hard, goin' fast, goin' wild
Rollin' hard, rollin' fast, rollin' by
Goin' hard, goin' fast, goin' wild
Rollin' hard, rollin' fast, rollin' by.

Robert Earl Keen- Rollin' By

 

2 comments:

John Lien said...

That was good. Maybe I should catch his show next time he rolls by.

Deborah said...

Dang. Robert Earl's been through every little Texas town I've lived in.