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