Delta 88 - Joshua Davis

Watching painted lines fly by

Driving westward late at night

And every one I get to

Is another left behind

Until I watch the night grow early

Right before my weary eyes

That sun must be hungover

Cause it’s struggling to rise

Luck has a way of changing

But I don’t have time to wait

So I dream about the cold and that old Delta 88

Some faces have a history

Some just have a past

Where you happen to pull over

When you’re running out of gas

This place was founded where an angel

Was said to have set down

Put they got him tarred and feathered

And they run him out of town

I got half a mind to chase him

And the other half to stay

While I dream about the cold and that old Delta 88

Where can I find some piece of earth

Some stone unturned not burned down

I keep looking around but all I see

Are strip malls and worn out memories

I keep a picture of a river

By what used to be a store

And a broken down theater

That no one goes to anymore

Since the canvassing of snow

Was drawn into the flood

And our watercolor ghost town

Was left painted in mud

I got a pocket full of memories

It’s got me limping from the weight

While I dream about the cold and that old Delta 88