Waitin’ for a train, that no longer comes to that old coyote town
There’s a hobo with his three legged hound
Where my old dad still clings to that old coyote town
Sometimes he waits too long
At the drive-in where my innocence died
As cars and trucks and time pass by that old coyote town
Where the old men rock and the tumbleweeds roll
Daddy falls asleep in the living room
And up in the attic there are papers that prove
Like horses the pick-ups are parked out in front
But I still think of the people and the place that he loves
The old house is finally his
On the sofa with the TV on
Says popcorn and Pepsi for a dime
How much longer will they be around
With a rusty advertisement, dangling by a nail
Of a cafe that don’t need a name
In that rock hard west Texas ground
And the interstate rumbles like a river that runs
To a rhythm that don’t ever slow down
Till it's ashes to ashes, dust to dust
Sometimes he waits for a phone call from me
Waist high weeds hide a for sale sign
After thirty five years the grass still don’t grow
Past the boarded up windows down main
And down at the depot where I left for good
