Woman in Rust

Oh that night you locked me out on the street I was rueful and anxious
Went stumbling along with a buck in my palm to tip a bartender thankless
Mumbling drunk though a sea of words I was searching for purpose
The night was alive and young and the air still burned like a furnace
Tried to find the door where my old man came of age in Sacramento
Took a rest at a store with a red tile floor bought some warm green Jello
There’s a woman in rust collecting change for a bus to get her home
She’s a bit uneasy but don’t mind the feeling of being alone
I’m tired and aimlessly roam
There’s nowhere I’m looking to go
I just follow the lines of the road
I follow the lines of the road