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Backseat
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Bryan John Appleby
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1
You were hiding in the backseat of my Lincoln
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Underneath a blanket with your head against the door
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And I was already halfway through Ohio
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When I heard your soft voice singing to a song on the radio
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I crept out in the darkness of the morning
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Past our sleeping father, a cold cigar lying at his feet
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He was surrounded by his books down in the parlor
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Filled with all the words that he had wanted us to read and know
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But this is not an old American story
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About the rugged men who came out from the east
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And I am not some outlaw from the Badlands
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Or a gambler running tables in New Orleans
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So I put you on a bus back to Boston
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With some money in your shoe for a meal
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And I turn my car in the other direction
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Just hoping that I hear a note from the backseat
Bryan John Appleby - Honey Jars (Live o...
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