you were a phonograph, i was a kid
i sat with an ear close, just listening
i was there when the rain tapped her way down your face
you were a miracle, i was just holdin’ your space
well time has a way of throwing it all in your face
the past, she is haunted, the future is laced
heartbreak, ya know, drives a big black car
swear i was in the back seat, just minding my own
and through the glass, the corn crows come like rain
they won’t stay, they won’t stay
for too long now
this could be all that we know..
of love and all.
well you were a dancer, i was a rag
the song in my head, well was all that i had
hope was a letter i never could send
love was a country we couldn’t defend.
– excerpted from Big Black Car, Gregory Alan Isakov