Divorce and the American South - Aaron West and The Roaring Twenties

Hey Dianne,

Could you pick up the phone?

I know that you’re listening.

Baby, I know that you’re home and I know where I went wrong.

Don’t you leave me alone.

Could you pick up the phone?

I’m lost at a truck stop somewhere in the South.

I don’t know where I’m going, but I’m figuring it out.

I locked myself in this phone booth;

read your number out loud.

Now, I’m waiting it out.

If I lay here long enough, maybe the bugs will eat me whole.

If I stay here long enough, maybe the night would take me home.

I won’t let go, even if you say so.

No, I won’t let go.

Hey, Dianne,

I’ve been trying to quit.

I went from pack and a half a day to this e-cigarette bullshit.

It don’t give me what I want, but it stops them coughing fits.

Oh, I know how you hate it.

Hey, Dianne,

I know I fucked up.

It’s just when we lost the baby, I kind of shut off.

I know I never listened.

I wasn’t there for you enough.

I’m a fuck up.

If I lay here long enough, maybe the bugs will eat me whole.

If I stay here long enough, maybe the night could take me home.

I won’t let go, even if you say so.

No, I won’t let go.

I had a dream I flew back North

And the plane went down before we hit New York.

You didn’t come to the funeral.

You didn’t come to the funeral.

I hope you’d come to the funeral.

I hope you’d come to the funeral.

Hey, Dianne…