Delta 88

Watching painted lines fly by
Driving westward late at night
And every one I get to
Is another left behind
Until I watch the night grow early
Right before my weary eyes
That sun must be hungover
Cause it’s struggling to rise
Luck has a way of changing
But I don’t have time to wait
So I dream about the cold and that old Delta 88
Some faces have a history
Some just have a past
Where you happen to pull over
When you’re running out of gas
This place was founded where an angel
Was said to have set down
Put they got him tarred and feathered
And they run him out of town
I got half a mind to chase him
And the other half to stay
While I dream about the cold and that old Delta 88
Where can I find some piece of earth
Some stone unturned not burned down
I keep looking around but all I see
Are strip malls and worn out memories
I keep a picture of a river
By what used to be a store
And a broken down theater
That no one goes to anymore
Since the canvassing of snow
Was drawn into the flood
And our watercolor ghost town
Was left painted in mud
I got a pocket full of memories
It’s got me limping from the weight
While I dream about the cold and that old Delta 88