Duane Allman - Amy Ray, Susan Tedeschi

She came on up from Waycross yeah…

From a whiskey swamp and a vagabond clan

With her tune in her bucket and her head held high

And a book about her grandpa flying the skies

She said, Man it ain’t never gonna be the same

You know I’ll give ‘em a chance but

No one can play like Duane

Now it was back in the Fall of ‘71

Duane met a flatbed coming home

With his song in the charts and his Harley flying through the air

Now he was just hitting his stride when the angels wept

They said, Man it ain’t never gonna be the same

You know we’ll give ‘em a chance but

No one can play like Duane

We lose the best, we lost the rest, we lose it all along the way

We learn to dig down deep, wipe our hands, and walk away from the grave

She said, Now, I got a hole that just won’t fix

As deep as a sky that won’t be lit

The span of a wing that just won’t fly

And I been carrying this tune since the angels cried

She said, Man it ain’t never gonna be the same

You know I’ll give ‘em a chance but

No one can play like Duane