Busted Flat

Busted flat in Ocean Shores, waiting for a train
And I's feeling nearly as faded as my jeans.
Richard thumbed a diesel down just before it rained,
It rode us all the way to New Orleans.

I pulled my harpoon out of my dirty red bandanna,
I was playing soft while Richard sang the blues.
Windshield wipers slapping time, I was holding Richard's's hand in mine,
We sang every song that driver knew.

Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose,
Nothing don't mean nothing honey if it ain't free, now now.
And feeling good was easy, Lord, when he sang the blues,
You know feeling good was good enough for me,
Good enough for me and my Richard J. Ryan
.

Always stay sweet,

Sweetheart