Johnson County Snow

She got older, and you can’t hold her
Her higher calling takes her slowly out the door
To some oasis, where you can’t follow
You’re just a shadow of the man she knew before

She said she’d write soon, when she got settled
Like the lovers who pretend they’ll stay good friends
The smell is fading from the pillow
The dying flowers that you don’t know where to send

So come on back stage, amongst the ashtrays
I’m sure you’ll finds somewhere to sleep now Clementine
The phone’s a ringing, come early morning
You best be running now to make it out on time

Come back someday, and we’ll go driving
Out to Solon, where we blew out long ago
You’ll be laughing and I’ll be older
Still contented in this Johnson County Snow

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