It ain't nothin' but a small frame house on an acre lot. It ain't that much different from any other house on the block. And it may not look like we've got all our share of the promise.
I parked my car beside the highway and I didn't lock the doors. Left a note there with the keys if it cranks, well friend, she's yours. And I struck out across Texas, gonna walk it line to line.
It was a quarter till three on the day that we met. Exactly nine o' five on the night that she left. Well I tried my best but I still can't forget. How good she used to be.
I made five hundred miles in six hours flat. Trying to make up for lost time. I been beatin' a path to your mama's door. To set things between us right.